Tag Archives: wishing

I wish I could find you again.

{note: This was written in 2002 when I was regretting losing touch with a friend who had gotten me through some really, really bad times. I frequently Google and search his name on Facebook, but have never been able to find him again. I really wish I could, if only just to say, “Thank you for being there.”}

I remember the first time I met you, and I lied about my age because I knew you were a little bit older, and I wanted you to like me. I was 13, you were 15.

I remember talking you for hours on the phone, about everything and nothing. You laughing and playing and jumping, me lying on the bed and twisting the phone cord around my hand. Sometimes, we’d fall asleep on the phone together, and then wake up and whisper ‘goodnight’ before hanging up. I talked to you almost every night, and I loved it.

I remember you picking me up when you got your license, and driving me down to your house. We’d hang out in your room and be silly and watch bad movies. I remember your birthday parties, your friends, your parents. I remember you being the only one who made me happy, who understood me.

I remember you stopping by to see me after visiting your brother. You’d tap on my window to wake me up and I’d let you in. We’d sit and talk, sometimes we’d gripe about things we hated in our lives, and try to figure out how to change them.

I remember you holding me when I told you he hit me. We cried together, and I wished you were mine. I remember that one, perfect kiss, your moment of confusion — then kind of laughing it off as a lonely mistake.

I remember meeting you for pizza. One last time, before you took the military plunge, before you left me and headed off for who knows what.

I miss you, Kelly. I wish I could find you again.

Advertisements

%d bloggers like this: