Mary, when you spent the night, I felt seventeen again, but seventeen on a perfect fleeting summer day, one bright enough to linger into eighteen and nineteen and twenty. Times always feel softer and simpler when I remember how long we’ve been friends.
Landon, sometimes I cry when I text you. I never ask you why you stay. I already know. How do we let go of something within arms reach? How do we choose between feeling our fingers slipping and being left empty handed with clenched fists? All I know is that we have always held hands whenever we are crossing the street and we do not let go until we make it to the other side.
Kaitlyn, whenever it rains, I get really heavy, as if the weather is seeping into my lungs, stepping on my chest, weighing down every breath I take no matter how far I retreat into my bed. And then I think about how if you were here, we would be running around outside together barefoot, our laughter piercing through every single rain drop. And suddenly I am on my feet, humming while I make coffee.
