Tag: nostalgic

Gifts.

Eight Years Ago.

My brother was born the day before my father’s birthday.

For the last ten years, he’s been his greatest gift.

Every year, we make a party celebrating the both of them.

As I watched my parents this weekend – putting everything together, my mind drifted over the twenty-three different ways my birthday was celebrated over the years.

I always wanted more from my parents. The most expensive gift. More gifts. A better birthday cake. No homemade food, give me pizza. Give me a thousand different colored balloons. Get me a new birthday outfit. Every year should be better than the last.

I watched them clean the entire house. I watched them decorate it. I watched them prepare all of the food. I watched my mom make the cake. I watched them prepare the porch for the guests that were coming. I realized in all of these moments that I spent so much of my younger years wishing for more that I overlooked all of the present moments.

I never realized how hard they tried. I never appreciated the things that they did give.

I didn’t count the roof over my head as a gift. I didn’t care about their full-time jobs. I didn’t count the shoes on my feet and the clothes on my back.

I didn’t need a car on my sixteenth birthday or gold earrings from ‘Santa Claus.’

I needed to learn the art of appreciation.

If I could talk to a younger version of my self, I would help her to start appreciating mom and dad earlier. I would tell her to not allow it to take twenty some odd years to make certain realizations.

Start now.

They are amazingly complicated people in their own right, but breath deep and be patient.

Let them surprise you.

Time with them is the ultimate gift.

I’d tell her.

-S.

If.

If you were here, I’d come pick you up at 1:30 am.

We would stop at McDonald’s and pick up all the food and drinks that are the worst.

I’d put on a playlist that I made that night. It would be filled with all of our favorite songs at the moment. Sometimes I would sing lead and you would sing back-up and then we would trade places.

I would look over at you and see that you are hanging halfway out of the window taking in the summer breeze that only happens at night. You’d be sipping your soda and a bug would hit your face while we are speeding down the highway to the airport. You’d erupt in a big cloud mixed with spitting and cuss words.

We are coming up to our destination. My secret place. One of the main reasons my car runs out of gas quickly.

The airport.

The lights. The breeze. The air. The sounds.

We take it all in.

The music is still playing, but we are no longer singing.

Here, conversation doesn’t have to take place. We are both sifting through our own demons. And this place calms us.

People are leaving. People are coming back. And although physically we are not on any of those planes – I see our souls rise up into the night sky and make things right.

We will always have these memories. And even when their warmth is no longer able to sustain our friendship – we know that those two young women are still alive somewhere in this universe.

A touch. A whisper. A scream. A cry. A moment. A feeling.

Fleeting.

In this moment, I am still aware that we are going to separate soon.

That you will move away and things won’t be the same. That someone else will get to hug you and see the way your face lights up for Pepsi and hot Cheetos – even though you know they make you break out. That someone else will learn all of your faces, different laughs, and words you’ve made up.

Someone else will be your friend. They will learn to love you. They will learn your ways.

-S.

The Men I’ve Met.

For me, love, above all else, should inspire.

I haven’t met that man yet.

I’ve met the childish one that wants you to do everything for him.

I’ve met not ready, but plays with the idea of being ready.

I’ve met can’t talk about my feelings.

I’ve met unfaithful.

I’ve met blame everything on you.

I’ve met can’t have an adult conversation/argument without mentioning a break-up.

I’ve met childhood trauma that they haven’t healed from yet.

I’ve met you should’ve stayed the fuck away from me.

I’ve met the alcoholic.

I’ve met I’m just wasting your time until the next best thing comes along.

I’ve met I just want somebody – it doesn’t really matter if its you.

But I have YET to meet – because of my love, I inspire you, daily, to be a better you.

And that’s okay.

Did I mention I was 31, and that most days I feel like I don’t have a damn thing figured out.

Be patient.

Don’t rush it.

It’s coming.

–S.

Overnight Bags.

You make me happy.

I don’t know why I can’t just shut off my brain and keep my heart working instead.

Scientifically, because one cannot function without the other.

I want to be one in this happiness. I want to live in it.

I want to dwell in it, but my brain develops pictures of the future, and I can’t see you in them.

I’ve packed your bags, although you’ve just arrived.

They say what we love, we leave behind.

Maybe, I just won’t tell you that I love you.

–S.

As Deep as the Ocean.

My heart is heavy tonight because I realize that it may never happen again.

Not that I want it to, but I may never find another connection like the one that I have with my best friend who moved away.

Not that I’m searching, but we live in that kind of society now.

Maybe it’s the generation that I am a part of.

I went out to eat with someone today – which I don’t do often these days – and they seemed so disinterested in what I had to say.

I’d say things that I’d tell her.

I’d refer to things that she would know.

Only to find out what I already knew – that this person wasn’t her.

We like superficial things now. We interact with people at work. We interact with people at school. We interact with people at the grocery store. We interact with people at the drive-thru. But anything more than this – is simply too much for you to ask us to do.

It’s too deep.

Depth scares us.

If there is no depth, it’s easier for you to rid yourself of that person.

It breaks my heart that lifetime friendships are a rarity in this day and age.

We meet seasonal people – over and over again.

We all search for it.

Connections.

Our Heart – Our Soul – Our Spirit – Our Mind.

They all yearn to be connected to something. Not necessarily romantic in nature. But just simply the comfort of knowing that one day you might not have a god damn thing to say or won’t know how to say what you need to say and that person will understand completely.

For generations to come, I wish you friendships with the depth of an ocean.

–S.

Ghost Stories.

I am walking with your ghost again,

through fields filled with weeds, abandoned store parking lots, and cemeteries you now call home.

I am walking with your ghost again,

through empty playgrounds, the haunted city asylum, and the forest where you told me your first secret.

I am walking with your ghost again, through buildings where our laughter no longer echoes, on rusty train tracks, to the last place we were whole.

I am walking with your ghost again,

but you are fading as the sun is climbing the sky.

I am walking along again,

bracing myself for your millionth goodbye.

–S.

I hope you find your love song.

At the end of the day – as much as I hate to say it – we are not meant for each other.

It would be unfortunate for us to force something that was never meant to be.

When love comes for me, I won’t have to enhance it by painting it more beautifully in my mind.

Love will paint me – in brighter colors, I will be born again.

Although it was never me, I hope you find whatever it is you’re searching for.

I wish your heart peace, and I hope you’re able to trust another with your heart.

Love is not meant to be a one-sided emotion. That’s why it hurts so much for many of us, you know? When you are in love together, that’s what the songs are about.

I know that music is very important to you – as it is for me.

So, I hope you find your love song. May it never lose its charm.

Each time you play it, may it bring you every last feeling and sensation that you felt the very first time you heard it.

–S.

I will miss my friend.

I was disappointed to find out that nothing had changed.

That within me there still lived this thing, something that always wanted to please you.

I hate that and that is the truth.

I can’t be your friend. I actually don’t want to be.

I would be –  in an ideal universe where my head could un-think what it thought about you and erase all of the memories.

I would be – in an ideal universe where my heart could un-feel what it felt for you.

I would be – in an ideal universe where my soul didn’t feel like it was supposed to be connected to yours forever.

That is what I will miss the most – my friend.

For most, well all situations, I usually say that I wouldn’t change anything about the way the events played out because of the experience and the lessons that I learned along with it.

But, I would undo this one.

I want you to know that I would undo it all to ensure that we could always be friends.

As with most things, my mind added fresh paint over the pictures of us, the memories of us, the fantasies of us, the daydreams of us.

My daydreams and fantasies creating the perfect encounters.

However, they never actually existed.

At least not in the way that I painted them to be.

In another life, maybe.

In this life, never.

–S.