• Memories of You

    by  • July 13, 2011 • * Safe for Work *, Miss You • 0 Comments

    For my love, my high school sweetheart, my husband, my soldier… my Andwoo:

    Last night, I lay in bed thinking of you for a long time. I did it because I miss you, but also… because I miss you. I miss the boy you used to be, even while I love the man you have become. I let my mind drift back to so many summers ago, when met you again for the first time at the dreaded birthday party. I thought about what a dork I was then, falling head over heels right in front of you… literally! I fell off the couch in what felt like a scandalously short nightgown and landed bottoms up. I know you saw my panties; I just regret wearing white that night. I remembered last night how sweetly you helped me up, and how cute you were later, under the bright July moon on the trampoline. I fell in love with you that night, and I didn’t even know it.

    I thought about the day my mom brought me out to your family’s ranch, the day you were digging post holes. I came around the corner just in time to watch you, 15 years old, tanned and muddy with your hair in your face, swing the pick-ax. You were shirtless in the heat, in a pair of old blue jeans, and my little teenage heart stood still. The only thing that made it start beating again was that you stopped what you were doing, wiped your forehead, and came right to me with a smile: it made my heart pound! To this day, the sight of you topless in blue jeans makes me flutter inside.

    The last memory I recalled last night, as I lay next to the pillows on your side of the bed, was not from so long ago. Only a few months, actually. We were standing in the sun, and my heart was pounding then too, painfully. I picked at your uniform, pulled a fuzzy here and there, wiped an eyelash from your cheek and pressed it between my fingers for luck. And I cried. I swore I wouldn’t, but I couldn’t stop myself. As easily as I can remember the water I just drank, I can feel your hands on my face. You wiped my tears away, and I could feel the callouses that I have always loved on your palms, and you kissed me. It was the shortest, sweetest kiss of my life; if I close my eyes, I can almost taste you still. And then you walked away, with your gun on your shoulder. You got on the bus… and I walked away, too, because if I didn’t, I would have caused a scene.

    Sometimes, I wish we could go back to those early, beautiful years. The easy times, when it was just love, and just lust, and just you and I against a world we weren’t ready to understand. I miss that, and the handsome, crooked smile boy you used to be, but most of all, I just miss you. Come back to me.

    That clumsy girl with the glasses, who hosed you down when you were muddy, and married you, your Cutie.

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