Saturday, November 21, 2015

this is the 27th time i've written about you

i met you in april
and you forgot about me by november.


yesterday new hands scrolled through my pictures and they landed on one from my last day with you

a hundred memories pressed themselves against the edge of my mouth but i swallowed them back without even missing a beat.

i wanted to say something pretty about the security that used to come from familiar lips 
but the truth is i just didn’t know how

and i think that story is tired of being told.

some days the world just sits heavier than others and
some days the words don’t come as easy as they used to

some days it hurts more than i was expecting.

and its not that i don’t miss you anymore,
because i do

its just


i’ve run out of words for you.

i’ve smeared your name across too many pages trying my hardest to unlove you,
meanwhile you’ve occupied yourself with leaning in first for everyone but me. 

i guess we all have different ways of trying to forget.

and it’s not that i wasn’t expecting it,
because i was

it’s just

i’ve run out of words for you



and august didn’t last quite as long as i would’ve hoped.

Tuesday, September 15, 2015

of college and umbrellas and other things



i’ve got a really good view from my small dorm room window.

i always knew it was good, but i’ve never really appreciated it until tonight, because the clouds are so thick i can’t see anything past provo,

and normally i can see all the way to the mountain my house sits on.



tonight i can’t see suncrest.
but i can imagine exactly where my mom is knitting and where my dad is journaling and how HGTV is playing just to drown out the silence, but no one's actually watching it.

yesterday they hosted an ‘empty nesters party’ at our house with all their old people friends, and last week my mom posted a collage of all her kids on instagram. she spelled empty nesters wrong in her caption so i had to call her and teach her how to fix it. 

today she texted me, and somehow, even though i can’t see her, she’s still taking care of me.



i wasn't going to, but i took the umbrella like she told me to, and it started pouring the minute i walked outside.

i’m sitting on my bed wearing the same t-shirt i always wear, with a big purple W in the middle. my roommates always stare at it like it’s poison, just like they do with anything that’s not blue or Y. 

but i don’t want to take it off. because 900 miles from my little home in provo is the green eyed girl i grew up with. she’s making new memories with new people in a new place i’ve never been. but i hear Washington’s green, and i hear it rains a lot. 



tonight it’s raining in provo. the grass is a brighter shade of green and even though my socks are soaked, i’ve been smiling all day. because today felt a little bit like Washington. 

it felt like Washington, and it had me thinking about the green eyed girl i still talk to. 
we still talk and i still miss her and nothing’s really changed, 
except that everything is different.

when we talk, we talk about her life and my life and his life, and how it’s no longer our life and that’s a little bit sad. we talk about how we miss our moms, and boys with good socks and good shoes.

it’s turned into a lot more of catching up than just enjoying each other’s company and it’s sad, but i guess that’s just what happens when you grow up.



i've got a good view from my dorm room window. 

i can't see suncrest, but i can see the rain.

it feels like Washington and growing up and poetry and college,

and not missing high school.


and i’ve been waiting a long time for that.












Sunday, May 17, 2015

eleven

i hate the number 11.

and if you really knew me, 

you'd know why.

i refuse to make wishes at 11:11 

but today, there are 11 days left until graduation

so tonight at 11:11, i wished for more than 11 days  

Sunday, April 26, 2015

best friends forever

eight years old and polar opposites
but i knew as soon as i met her
we had to be best friends
i curled my hair and played with polly pockets
while she got picked first for every kickball team
we didn’t sit by each other on the school bus
and the only thing we had in common was our last name


a few years passed 
she swore she would never wear makeup
and she laughed because my hair was still curled
party in the usa was our afternoon anthem 
we made matching halloween costumes
and started sitting by each other on the bus



the summer after sixth grade we were finally “the big kids”
seventh grade wasn’t ready for us
we made matching key chains to hang in our lockers
and it was the first time we promised
best friends forever


we spent young summers hiking to our “secret spot”
we’d end up on her roof wishing on stars
and talking about the future
she still swore on no make up
and neighborhood night games ended when the sun went down
she walked me halfway home
right up to the stop sign
where we would turn into a dead sprint back to our own houses
and it would all start again the next day


fourteen years old and we still had the same last name
but so many things had changed
our pinkies were tired from making so many promises
and her eyes were different
i saw her at school with make up on and curled hair
just how i taught her
and i laughed
and i cried
because we weren’t eight years old anymore


by sophomore year
we were joined at the hip
i didn’t go anywhere without her
and when she didn’t get an invite to that girl’s birthday party,
i didn’t either
it didn’t work that way
best friends but practically sisters


she was there for my first heart break
and i was there for hers
she’s my shoulder to cry on
and my favorite sore stomach from laughing
she’s there when i need her
even if it’s in the school parking lot during fourth period
or in the back row of first period calculus


she’s football games and new years eve fondue
sushi dates and rainy day dance parties
no make up movie nights and midnight ramen
she's my EFY roommate and human diary
and she's long drives with good music
she's my favorite company


she’s the best friend every one talks about having
her mom is my mom and my mom is hers
and you can bet we finish each other’s s(andwiches)entences


on friday we went to senior prom in the same group
we danced to flo rida and usher for the last time
surrounded by sweaty kids we grew up with
and when it was all done
i realized

this is so much more than just a last name














Sunday, April 12, 2015

32 degrees & 32 days left


32 degrees fahrenheit

and it’s been below freezing for a while now

you’ve been away for a while now

i haven’t been downstairs for a long time

it’s not the same since you left

probably because mom redid your whole room

but i swear if i looked hard enough

i could still find that golf club you brought home from D.I.

i still remember

six-foot-four with an ego just as tall

if not taller

and a sense of humor wide enough that it evened out

it evened all of us out

there’s been a part of all of us missing

we all knew it the second you left

mom cries when i say your name

and i just laugh

favorite child


favorite sibling


favorite bear hug


favorite partner in crime


favorite 2-year-wait


favorite 32 days left, and believe me i’ll wait

just know

it’s always below freezing without you here

the thermostats been set at a constant 68 since the day you left

but it’s always below freezing

it’s a cold that no cup of steaming anything could take away

it’s a cold that no fireplace could fix

so believe me,

i’ll be waiting

32 days

but worth the wait

32
31
30

see you soon






Saturday, March 21, 2015

1:29 AM & it still hurts

it’s been four months since that monday
four months since that monday

and i’ve never been a fan of mondays.

but the tears rolling down my face every night make it hard to believe
that it’s been four months since i’ve heard you say my name

it’s still hard to believe that it’s been four months 
because my heart still hurts like it was yesterday
and my hand still feels empty without yours in it.

and every monday 
i still wonder if curfew is the only thing that pulls her away from you each night,
i still wonder if you grab her waist and pull her back one last time
just like you used to when curfew made me leave.

it still hurts like it was yesterday
but i’ll keep telling everyone i’m over you.

i think i forgot the sound of your voice and that hurts more than anything
i keep looking over my shoulder 
because maybe if i turn around enough times 

you’ll be standing there

it will be november again
and i won’t be wondering about her

it will be november
and you’ll grab my hand
like yours was made to fit

because it was.

i’m over you.
i’m over you.

i hope they believe me and i hope someday monday doesn’t hurt so bad

i’m over you


and maybe someday i’ll believe it myself.



Sunday, March 8, 2015

this isn't about graduation

taxes are due on april 15
resolutions begin on january 1
presents are opened on december 25
candy is passed out on october 31
everything’s green on march 17
fireworks and freedom on july 4
love on february 14

caps and gowns and diplomas on may 28.
it’s marked on my calendar just like any normal holiday
as if it’s something to celebrate

but this isn’t about graduation.

we’ve been here for three years 
but have any of us ever stopped to read the quotes on the walls?
hallways that sound like headaches
and classrooms too crowded to be anything short of lonely

but this isn’t about high school.

my mom still does my laundry,
and i couldn’t tell you the first thing about cooking
or ironing

but this isn’t about graduation or anything that might come after.

i remember when the only people who laid down on train tracks were cartoons
and the word “suicide” didn’t make me cringe.
i remember when summer meant sidewalk chalk and sprinklers under trampolines
and the word “college” didn’t make my hands sweat.
i remember when the future was still twelve grades away 
and the word “senior” was irrelevant.

but this isn’t about kindergarten.
and it’s not about graduation.

this is about may 28 and the 81 days standing between here and there
this is about the 81 days.

this is about 81 days and the fact that my ears can’t hear anything past the 2:15 bell
and my nose can only smell bittersweet.
this is about 81 days and i never thought i’d be the one chanting ‘senior year’ at the last black light dance.

but here i am
and here we are.
81 days.