the last day, before i got on the plane, was the best day.
there was no crying like last time, not really. all we did, and all i wanted, was to drive around in the sun with my husband.
we had our rhythm, our circles. we did our favourite drive, through stanley park, and it was like the sun was showing off how gorgeous it could be. it was the first gorgeous day of summer.
we went to our spots; the japanese breakfast cafe, casa gelato by the train tracks, the restaurant that served kohlrabi and tartare where we sat at the bar for hours.
we drove to see his childhood friend, his childhood friend who’d been my first boyfriend, too. i tried to play basketball with them in the park; that same park, where a different me had cried and tripped and laid in the sun a decade and a half ago.
i spent so much time thinking about his eyes, and golden skin, the lines he was starting to get in the corners of them when he smiled.
about how he loved to help people, went out of his way to do it, no matter the cost. how what everyone wanted always came before himself. about the blurred lines between lovers, friends, family.
but you’re coming back, people kept saying. i know, i’d say, watching the days spill out ahead of me uncertainly.
thanks for being here. this is fictionalizings, fragments of creative writing created for no specific purpose.
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