Nights spent driving up the coast with only the moon lighting the ocean. No idea what our futures would bring. Remember when you hiked to the top of Trail Ridge Road in the Rockies and made my dad take a photo of you from the back so it looked like you owned the world? I loved that day. Or when we trespassed onto that private beach in the middle of the night and made each abandoned sailboat our home? Oh, and then I scared that poor turtle coming up to lay her eggs. I still feel bad about that. Ugh, and how we used to dress up (matching, of course) to go to the hottest club opening of each weekend in South Beach? Our photos would appear everywhere the night after.
Those moments tipsy on rum and singing to Sean Paul, annoying my dad with our endless PDA in the Rockies as I showed you where I grew up, sharing our hopes and fears on abandoned boats in the pitch black night, posing as the perfect college couple for the latest club websites…were the only moments we lived in.
There is a fear deep inside of me that I can barely acknowledge. It seeps up to the surface every time I get close to someone else in this adult life, screaming that I don’t love them like I love(d) you. I will never love them like I love(d) you. And then I push them away with my hot temper that you know all too well.
You reached out recently. You knew I was sick. You wanted to know the severity, you wanted to know how I (really) felt. And as I assured you that I was fine, you continued to push back like you used to. You’re the only one who ever could see through me.
But I didn’t tell you. Not yet. I am afraid that my fate will somehow darken our nights getting lost on South Florida roads until the sun came up. I am afraid my destiny will make us wonder why we ever happened at all. Or maybe it will give even more meaning as you find out that you truly were my one love story during this life.
Please stand towards the ocean, holding the lights that are so sacred to us, and remember me. Remember us before med school, hectic jobs in the city and our brief lives apart. Remember we lived in the moment, and try to again, for me.