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.

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.

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  

even after all these years

i remember first grade tea parties and second grade art classes

i remember school getting cancelled for one inch of snow on the ground in 3rd grade because i lived in Virginia

i remember in 4th grade we dropped my sister off in a different state for college and i wondered if i would ever see her again

in fifth grade a girl at the bus stop told me i had ugly teeth and a big nose and now that’s all i see when i look in a mirror

sixth grade was orthodontist appointments and seventh grade was figuring out how to open a locker

i remember being too old to trick or treat in 8th grade, but too young to drive to a halloween party

i remember toms and colored jeans in ninth grade

in tenth grade all my friends had blonde hair so i begged my mom to let me dye mine, and i remember crying in the car on the way home from the salon because i hated it so much

i remember hating junior prom and not getting asked to homecoming at the beginning of senior year

i remember wishing it would all be over

and now it is

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.

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.

to do

lets order an unnecessary amount of take out from the Thai place on main street and play in the snow without gloves or shoes

lets go on a drive up the canyon without taking a single picture and make memories that only we know about

lets go to prom wearing our moms’ old dresses and dance like no one is watching (because they arent)

lets talk about how much it hurt when he walked away with your heart in his hand and how he didn’t even look back as he tossed it carelessly over his shoulder 

lets get so caught up in the moment that we can’t remember what day it is

lets blast music and scream the wrong lyrics and dance with our hands out the rolled down windows and lets pretend that it’s not below freezing outside

lets fall in love with strangers and everyone else

lets break the rules no one ever bothered to write down

lets cry until there’s no salt left in our bodies and lets laugh until it becomes the only thing we know how to do

l e t s   e v e r y t h i n g

because there’s still so much to do

but time’s running out
and i am too

don't we all?

i blame elementary school for turning me into a perfectionist.

in fourth grade they told me to reach for the stars, so i did.

and when they told me to write down my goals for the future, i did.

i reached and i reached and i wrote

without ever realizing that reaching the stars wasn’t the problem.

the problem was figuring out what to do once i had them.

“reach for the stars” they said as they forgot to remind me about the footprints on the moon.

and my mom told me she would still be proud of me even if I chose to keep the stars.

but this never ending road of constellations is confusing and i keep getting lost

and I've never been good at listening to my mom.

it’s time to figure out what comes after the stars,

so i’m trading them in for the Moon.

and for a new name.

so i no longer have to be the girl whose name doesn’t look quite right in cursive,

i’m no longer the girl who hates her too big nose for her too round face,

the girl whose words are usually hidden behind her unwilling lips.

so let me start over.

nice to meet you,

i’m Avery Moon.

i’m in love with mountains that touch the sky and snow that never stops falling.

i crave silence that doesn’t need to be filled. and let me tell you,

i’ve been to Paris once before and it was just okay.

...but i came back and this time i’m here to stay,

because i figured Paris deserves a second chance.

don’t we all?