I was killing time waiting for Christina late friday night of retreat. Leaning against the hood of my little car, white dust from the gravel road collecting on my back, I looked up at the sky. That place is filled with more significant memories than any single location I can think of. The faces, the feelings, the many meaningful moments, all collected, gathered, and resurfaced in three short days. As I looked up at that dark sky, I thought of walking down that very same gravel road two summers ago with Shelby, arms linked, heads to the sky. Of waking up in my bunk more tired and emotionally drained than ever, pudding bubble baths with Macy, and of Lily. I thought of that night on the porch and talking about death and life and making sense of everything I’ve been trying to figure out on my own now for some time. I thought of how everything has changed and how drastically all of us have changed. I thought about my grandparents’ house on Curlew St. and drying dishes in their kitchen. I thought about memorizing the poem on my Nana’s refrigerator and learning how to play “Heart and Soul” in the piano room. I thought about you and how I want nothing more than to be honest with you about everything. I replayed that conversation in my head, the one that we’ve never had. I thought about sitting in my car with Hannah last summer and talking about how she believes in people and goodness and how much sense she makes. I thought about sleepovers with Stella and hiding from my thoughts so that I could sleep that night. I thought about that night and too many drinks and the words said and the feeling of feeling necessary. I thought about listening to “Happiness” while flying down 380 with Victoria in the passenger seat. Windows down, the wind carrying little weepies. And I thought about how people enter and exit my life. Enter, exit. Enter, exit. Simple. Complicated. Balance.

I’ve spent a significant amount of time looking at the night sky with the hope of catching a glimpse of a shooting star in my nineteen years of living. Victoria and I used to lay on their back deck wrapped in blankets during the wintertime to watch the stars. And on multiple occasions, I’ve stared at the sky long enough to think I saw a shooting star but wasn’t sure if I was just imagining it. Maybe it was a plane or I moved my head or my eyes quickly and it seemed like a shooting star but I couldn’t be certain. Well, Friday night as I stood there, looking across the pond to the horizon, I saw the most magnificent shooting star I’ve ever seen. It trailed across the sky and I knew, without an ounce of doubt, that it was real.


One thought on “Crash.

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