Brandon,
Guess what! I got a job today! Wow, in fact I got a job and I got a shoo in at another job. Now I can work during the day and at night and make a shitload of money this summer. Yay. I'm listening to Kelly Clarkson "Miss Independent", and it's dawning on me how cheesey that really is. Funny. Oh well.
Still haven't gotten ahold of Dee today, but that's okay. She'll be in sometime today, they say. If not, I'll just get ahold of her tomorrow. It's all good. From what I know about her, (if it's true) we could potentially help each other out a lot. I heard that her parents were overly religious and they kept her inside the house, so now she's socially retarted. Well, I'm a rather sociable person, when I want to be, so maybe I can show her a few things about society. Maybe not. Who knows?
I have something to say. I'm scared. I don't know why, except that I'm starting to forget things. Somebody told me that that's the only way to heal, but if I'm healing, why do I feel so bad? Part of me wants to forget, because it hurts to remember, but another part of me wants to keep it all inside of me, to pull out and look at later. I don't really remember what you look like. Certain things, yes, but some of it is beginning to fade from my mind like everything else from childhood.
Your eyes, for instance, went first. I remember what they look like with glasses, but there is a glare, and I can't quite remember what color they were. I remember your laugh and your voice. I remember the way your hands looked clenched together. I remember how you used to sit in your chair, tilted back with your feet on the desk. I remember how you looked in your uniform, but not what you looked like in plain clothes. I remember your wedding ring, with it's square pattern and worn exterior. I remember how your face looked when you smiled, but not when you were expressionless or angry. I can only hope that the few things that I do remember about you don't fade as quickly as everything else.
Oh well. Life does go on, I suppose. People move away, children grow up, and people of all ages wither and die. I guess I just have to get used to the constant shifting tapestry of life and deal with it when one thread reaches its end and realize it's time to find a new string to explore.
I started writing down memories, once, and I never got past the first one. Well, I thought of another really good memory that I wanted to share with you. It was last winter, the day before New Year's Eve. I was with my boyfriend, watching the snow fall outside in heavenly glory. (You see, we live in the midwest, and snow isn't as common as one would think.) We decided to go outside and play.
Tiny drops of lace waft to the ground leisurely, landing on my nose with all the ease of an old friend. The knit cap on my head fits cozily around my ears, keeping them toasty against the biting wind. It's a grey day, full of snow and smelling like ice. I breathe in deeply, taking in the feeling of Christmastime and the love that goes with it. This is my favorite time of the year.
Suddenly, a snowball smashes into the back of my head, followed by giggles as I spin around to confront this intrusion of my deep, meaningful breathing. My boyfriend looks at me sheepishly through heavily lashed eyelids and throws another snowball. I gasp in indignation as it smashes into my coat.
I bend down, grab a handful of snow, and pack it hard in my gloved hands as he runs to safety behind his snow-covered car. I throw the snowball and it lands inches away from him. I've always been a bad aim. He laughs and fills his hands with more snow, waiting for an open shot. We laugh and throw snowballs for about an hour.
The snow begins to fall harder, and the flakes become humungous as we, our cheeks rosy from our snowball fight, call a truce and agree to head inside for the warmth of central heating. We are in the courtyard, just outside of the house, when my boyfriend grabs onto my hand and spins me around. Well, it just so happens that we are on an ice patch (as we soon findout) and as I turn, I slip, and we both tumble to the ground in a fit of obscenities and laughter.
As we're laying on the ground, getting soaked from the snow, my boyfriend looks at me, and says, "You know what? You're really beautiful." Then we kiss, not even caring about the wetness that is raining down on us and seeping in through our clothes. It's like something from a cheesey romantic comedy, but since it's happening to me, it's wonderful.
That memory just came to me today, out of the blue as I was going through some old emails we'd written ages ago. It's a nice memory, though, so I think I'll keep it around for a while. Well, I've written about a book, so I'll go. If I think of something else, I'll get back to you. Thanks for listening.
Lauren
