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pete
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we watched "very annie-mary" tonight, a random pick from the indy video store. it feels like its been almost a year since we last spent any time together, it seemed like a whisper passed and we slipped into long familiar forms.
her grandparents were funny, just chatting to us. every so often an akward silence would fall over the room, and then one of the old happy couple would talk about a relative who had similar aspirations to us, and conversation would continue. tomorrow they return to scotland. i'm happy i got to meet them.
at times i think her mom wants us to hook up. she does thinks so too. its strange, how a mother can try to manipulate her daughter so subtly, but be so obvious at it.
we won't hook up.
last summer we lived a ten minute walk from eachother. i moved last august, and now the distance is close to 45 minutes. it keeps us apart, makes it harder for those river walks that tore me so deeply, that i valued so much. i haven't heard her sing, in person, since last august that i can remember. she's been on the radio a few times, but that doesn't count.
as i walked through the neighbourhood i used to live in, through the park i used to pass daily. past jesus rock and the playground on the river. i paused and whispered those haunted words: "this coffee will last me another hour/ and this job will get me through the summer/ but i'll never get over missing you."
"i'm waiting to see your ghost."
all the emotions, followed by memories, from last summer flooded into my awareness. i felt a knot in my throat, dry tears refusing to fall. pain and happiness so old that it threatened to churn my stomach. everything smelled like it did last year. i saw their faces. i smelt the drugs. i felt the wet grass between my toes.
i wanted those days to return.
and then i began walking. crossing over to campus, avoiding the dangerous nostalgic trap of jesus rock and oxbow park. i moved further back into time. when i needed to think id either wandering around campus, if it was late, or go over to the aboritum and hide in the thickets. the thoughts all came back. the emotions. always the emotions.
as i left campus on the far side i walked the path my brother took me along when i first moved into residence, nearly two years ago. i felt afraid, nervous, expectant, i questioned what the next year would be like and longed for classes to begin again. i was going into my first year of university. i would be submerged in a new culture, surrounded by completely new people. i felt alive.
i remembered. and i returned to tonight. "i'm so tired of days that seem like the night."
maybe, one day, we'll walk again. she'll sing to me without end and we'll smile knowingly of the secrets we never did share, though i think she could read my mind.
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050609
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