D+L, B + A, A: A Modern Eulogy
I made one of those shrinky-dinks with our initials back in 2nd grade. Kept it in my wallet for years afterwards. I made a joke about how people might misconstrue it as us dating.
“Just friends… right?”
Just friends.
You told me I was one of the only people who could beat you in an argument when I came over to hang out once. We talked about the ghosts you saw in your hallways + the philosophy inside your head. We talked about our goals + your sister + education.
We passed a rubix cube back + forth. Debating the pros + cons of 2 look OLL + PLL.
You showed me some magic tricks. Pulled scarfs + coins + cards from thin air. Your sleight of hand was impressive + I remember wondering how much effort you put into making something look easy. Impossible even.
The year we went to the poetry slam we competed to see who could eat the most spicy edamame. Eyes focused, teeth gently pulling soft insides from their shells. Only when the plate was empty + our lips numb did we stop— grinning + surrounded by broken open cocoons.
That same day, in the backseat, you told me the secret to reading in the car is to begin before the motion hits + to never look up.
Never look up.
Maybe that’s what we both did.
Escaped.
+ never looked up except for those Christmas parties where you were busy hosting + I was busy hiding my social anxiety from a slew of faces I don’t remember anyone.
Never looked up.
So when I left for Boulder + you LA, we must have just accepted the occasional texting as the fall out.
My mom told me you had changed when it’d been a few years. I just shrugged, we all changed— I certainly had.
The last time I saw you we were boarding a plane out of a valley that tried to drown me. I suspect you might have felt the same way.
We both looked different but maybe were haunted by similar things. Our old selves from that old town pulling us down.
I stopped talking to you. I shouldn’t have done that. Shouldn’t have been so quick to dig up my roots and burn them.
But I was + only now, in the throes of your absence, so I realize that we have connections + contacts that tie us together even now. In that way only those gasping for air in this great big world can.
+ your head, hovering about the water, will slowly sink. + you will drift all the way down to rest on the ocean floor with all those who I tell myself can finally rest. But perhaps this is only because I am still floundering at the surface.
+ I know I’ll keep arguing with my dad + hiding from people I know in that godforsaken town, + burying myself deep within myself, + staring at a deck of cards or a rubix cube or a monster energy drink.
Everything will be the same.
Except
Nothing will be.
