ranch dressing

I remember the time we went to Sammy's right before it closed. We walked in and the workers behind the counter groaned and we chuckled behind their back. I remember when you said, "Hey this is kind of like a date." I looked up at you and smiled because I was okay with that.

I remember how your laugh had a way of turning my insides upside down. You would do something stupid, I would roll my eyes at you, and that would make you laugh. Your laugh made me want to laugh, too.

Most people are intimidated by my house, but you felt comfortable there. I liked that. And I liked that I felt comfortable with you at my house.  Conversation was easy- we could say anything and trust our heart's intentions.

No matter what we would try to do, we would always get distracted with music. We would share our latest favorites, and you were always the first one to know about mine. I loved that you noticed I loved the lyrics just as much as I loved the beat.

I loved driving places in your car with the windows down and the music playing. I loved to sing along, and so did you.

I thought I could tolerate ranch dressing, but I can't. I hate it.

I miss you.

I miss everything about you.

burnt soles

I remember the time you showed me how vulnerable you could be.

I remember answering my phone right before I went to bed and you were crying on the other end. You asked me to come to the bench because you needed someone to talk to, and I came running.

I met you at the bench and you were sobbing, shaking with tears still falling down your cheeks. You began to tell me everything that had happened and made me promise not to tell anyone, especially not my mother.

I never told anyone.

Not even my journal.