I Remember

True Love

Photo by Will O on Unsplash

I remember when I first loved you.

I remember how you asked me out standing in front of my high school locker. Your chin was quivering under a smile.

Looking back, you were as nervous as I was.

I remember, I barely remember, Kim’s party in the big yellow house on the corner.

You were my first.

We were so drunk, and I was amazed. I kept saying to myself “I’m doing IT. I’m DOING it!” and then “Why is he still wearing his shoes?”

I remember those shoes. Knock off Hush Puppies. (I had a similar pair when I was 8.)

I remember that olive drab army jacket, (or was it air force?)

I wore it always. Even under the humid Texas sun. It smelled like you. You always had nails in your pocket. I still have a few of those nails.

God we were young!

Tight jeans and feathered hair. Concert tees and moccasin boots. Renaissance fairs and Jethro Tull.

And then I left. You left.

We both left. You went south. I went west. We spent years apart navigating the last years of our adolescence apart.

I came back. You were still gone. I asked. I looked.