I am sitting here wondering if it would be a good idea, typing today into complete sentences. I think I may continue this with small phrases or words that will flood my mind with memories from this perfect day.
Fishing Steph’s CD art for her care package. It’s not clicking in yet. I’m just making her a craft. We’ll just see each other later. At the lockers. On the monkey bars. On our bikes, doing roller coaster loops on driveways. On the ice rinks. At McDonalds. In the trees. Showering to no music in the downstairs shower. That’s where I left my loofa and soap from the night I got home late from work. It’ll do. Taking the bike down Appleby Line to Meagan’s dad’s. Greeting Jake and Tyler Lowe on the driveway with Ben on the leash, looking as light brown as I’ve ever seen him, golden kind of. Seeing Meagan from behind on the computer. Opening the back door. Air. Watching videos I posted on Facebook the previous night. Jolting. Ben is going for a bathroom walk. Driving downtown. Seeing Meagan’s mom drive by Coffee Culture with Tyler the moment we arrive. Pink t-shirt. Black baseball cap. Our blueness. Man ahead of me told the cashier he gave him the wrong kind of muffin last time. A carrot, I think, not the zucchini nut. She looked at me with an are you kidding look on her nice face, as though she felt she related to me because we were peers. Earl Gray tea, or English Breakfast? Milk and a little bit of sugar. And a raspberry white chocolate scone. Mushier than usual. Sitting sitting. Coffee Culture Tarot Card Reader piece of paper. We want it. Tea tea. To go. Ohh!!!, the store. Gum. Lasting until the way home. Walking to the compass, the one that Meagan’s mom didn’t know existed. South. South. The barriers, but not barriers at all, really. “I’m still convinced it has something to do with South.”
Office Depot: I place that I don’t think I have been. Movie rack. “Good, a chair.”
It’s taken me about a half hour to write this much.
I cleaned my entire house. Entirety. Meagan was here reading and helping. David came over. We sat out back. We had conversation with my folks. We joked. It was good. I want more of it. More time. More now. More people started to arrive. I asked Steph to come for a simple “swim” with Meg, Jillian, Rachel and I. Little did she know... sort of. When she arrived, Meagan grabbed her by the eyes, covered them, walked her through to the backyard. She saw Amanda hiding behind the hot tub, everyone exploded out from behind it. Shaking. Redness. Happiness. Surprise. An actual surprise. Still a surprise. Nothing to be ruined. Walking hugs. Not expecting it. Food. Sushi. Pasta salad. Pops and waters and milks. This is about you, S. This day is you.
I am tired and my eyes keep on going out of focus and starring at this blur of word.
Foods. Conversations. Making everyone feel as welcome as possible, despite the fact that this is some sort of reunion for the most of us. Some haven’t seen others for weeks, others for a month, I haven’t seen some for a month also, weeks, days, a minute.
I am taking the Cuban wood sculpture you gave me with me to school. I bite my burnt lip. If I could take you, or if we could just spend another year together, it wouldn’t be the same. It’s healthy, this, here, our parting ways, creating paths for ourselves, leaving trails. Picture it now, staying together, more. It would be too... It’d be like we were waiting for the next chapter of our life. But Chapter 2, or 3, 10, whichever numerical value you decide to assign, if any at all, is very quickly coming. It’s Tuesday. Don’t dwell on tonight, on Monday, on Tuesday morning, on Tuesday at 5pm, the following days. Live now. Go now.
“We have a slideshow downstairs in the basement.” Making 12 teas for the guests, our buds. Gathering people. Collecting parents to see what we’ve all been up to the past few years together. Daisies. The beginning of a rainstorm. Clouds rolling in quickly. Girl Talk. Elementary photos. Photos by Jillian, 2 or 3. The rest of the slideshow. I didn’t think I would cry. I thought it was a slight possibility, but it was a definite response to this. More photos and videos. More. Sad songs. “We’re gonna make her cry!” (said Jillian, from days before tonight). We did. Me too. I sat with Sara on the floor. Steph sat on the couch with Jill and others. Sigur Ros at the end. “Ok I need hug now.” Gift basket. Blue white red. The Giver. Ripe. Canada’s Wonderland’s Ghoster Coaster. Tea. Film. Letter from June 2009. Cup from Deerhurst for the Cranberry juice. Always the Cranberry juice. Only the cranberry juice. Travel mug. Recipe book for future roommates and her. Brown ropes tied all around. Sketchbook. Globe. You are here > France.
This post isn’t to appeal to anyone. It’s just for myself, and for the guests of the surprise going away party to remember this evening, a second opinion.
Excellent group photos. Excellent. Well. “This is good.” “This is good, right? Right.” Red white blue blue white red red red blue white white black white red. Swim. Patio. Kitchen table. Living room couches. Pool. The pool. “I’m coming in.” Spontaneously, appropriately, quickly. I have your bathing suit. It’s drying on mine. Yellow and blue make green. Touching blisters like I touched her braces on the bus on the ski trip. Back dives. “See?” “Slamming on his guitar.” Groups. Laptop.
One arm hug. Softest hug I have ever received. “Thank you so much.”
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