I Remember

Dear You,

            "Flashbacks.

When I think of the time we spent together, it comes back in a kaleidoscope of dreams; swirling around my head with no attempt of peace. If I think of them too long, I get dizzy, wondering where we went wrong in life to land us here. We were perfect. We obeyed the laws, were on time for classes, graduated at the top of our class, waiting until marriage for everything. You even went into the Army to fight for our country- a land of people you didn't even know and some of who didn't even deserve the protection, and I went into the Medical Field specializing in Cancer Research because I knew it was wiping out people like they were on the toilet.

However, I guess none of that mattered in the end.

I remember us meeting in first grade. School started in August and Chicago heat was so bad, the school so poor, there were no fans- let alone air conditioning in the school anywhere but the gymnasium- unless the teacher decided to bring one from home. We were in a classroom of thirty-five, sharing one miniscule box fan, all dressed in the mandatory uniform of tan pants, black shoes, and white polo's. I can't imagine how many parents were disgusted when kids walked in the door with sweat stains on every visible part of their bodies. Now that I tihkn about it school should have been cancelled, but most of our home conditions were only a bit better, if it was better at all.

It was introductory time when we had to tell our name, birthday, and one thing about ourselves we liked. Most of the answers were something like "Eyes," "Hair", "Book bag" (even though the questioned specified your personality, not materialistic items you own), and the rare "Athletic Abilities." I said my honestly, because I remember my Mom and Dad saying that to be so young I was already so blunt, never really caring whether it hurt someone's feelings or not. You said it was your Charisma, such a large word for a young grade and nobody knew what you meant but the teacher- and me. I would later find out you had an uncanny ability to talk yourself out of the worst situations.

I remember eighth grade. It was the Winter Formal, and I was ecstatic when Keith Wilson asked me to be his date. I had a crush on him since sixth grade, and to find out the feelings were mutual put me on Cloud Ten- completely bypassing nine. Well, I thought the feelings were mutual. The day before he told me it was all a joke. He didn't want to go with me because I wasn't pretty enough, though in the yearbook printed the previous year I was voted the prettiest girl of our class. I cried all that day, and the day of the Formal. You knocked on my door, asking me why I wasn't dressed, though you obviously knew why because it was public humiliation since he revealed this to me in the middle of the hallways. I brought you along on my trip to Pity Island, a place I rarely visit, claiming no one wanted me to be there because I was ugly. Looking back, I had to of been a dramatic child. And I remember exactly what you did. You scooted my body closer to the edge of the bed, kneeling on the side. You moved my frizzy hair behind my ear,, held my chin in your hand, and said "You are the most beautiful girl I have ever met. And if they can't see it, they're multiple types of stupid." And then you kissed my forehead and left.

That may have been the point in time I realized how much I really, really, really liked you. When I dressed for the dance, had my Mom do my hair, and my Dad drop me off at the school, you were the only thought on my mind, and you were the only person I wanted to see, and your words were the only thing flowing in and out of my ears. Maybe that's why I remember them so perfectly twelve years later.

I remember starting freshman year together. I remember your muscles being more defined than the ordinary Newbie from Football Camp and your jet black haircut in a Juice-Style; the latest trend among our generation. I remember my excitement to be in clear contacts that highlighted my large hazel eyes, giving them a glossy tint, and my chestnut brown hair being below my shoulders after growing four inches in the summer (growing it had become a necessity since you decided to be scissor happy and cut it off! Though you claimed it was an accident and if I didn't turn around so quickly it would have never got caught in the twin traps). I remember you making the Junior Varsity Football team. I especially remember you begging me to try out for the Cheerleading Team, and surprisingly making the team first try.