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CARTOON-BUBBLE
MUSINGS
I used to pray for us to be alone, because I envisioned that we'd never
run out of things to say. We're both such freaks, such word addicts, so
similar yet careening down radically different paths. I used to dream
of possiblities floating over our heads, little cartoon-bubble musings
matched with cups of coffee.
But on that day, the last day as far as I'm concerned, we sat in a room
full of goodbyes and leavings, as filled with last-minute emotion as it
could possibly be, and found nothing, nothing on earth, to say.
I remember sitting next to you, so close I thought I could smell your
toothpaste, almost touching your knees, and occasionally trying to look
into your eyes. That was my way of testing myself to the extreme, because
there's nothing like looking someone in the eyes to hold you to the earth.
But with you, it was different. Our silence filled me with a warm happiness,
like I had swallowed something too hot too fast, and was standing outside,
wrapped up and comfortable on a snowy day.
I forget sometimes your gravity, the little kid spirit trapped in a tall,
strong body, and it makes me smile to think of you. The memory of your
agile mind pushes my own to new extremes. You're too far ahead of me,
too far ahead, too much of anything and everything.You're more alive than
my fragile half-frozen body can stand.
I wish someday we'll be able to lie separated by thousands of miles and
two years, and talk on the phone for hours. We'd talk to each other with
trust and without fear, free for once to let go of our minds and our conversation
and let things go where they would. Or perhaps we'd just run up the phone
bill with periods of silence, necessary pauses in a book without pages.
And either way, either way or both ways, we'd still be friends, you in
college and me not far behind. You driving and me forever standing, watching
you leave, marveling at how close we are yet so unfathomably different.
Yours, _____
the love letter
collection
submitted
10:10 PM EST
monday, october 20, 2008
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