anywhereisbetter

It was the morning that I was supposed to wake you up with kisses. I’d slept so little the night before that when the sun rose, it hardly felt like morning at all. We laid there together, clutching one another for what was possibly the last time, stifling the tears that seemed inevitable. We were silent together, sharing the same thoughts. I was terrified and empty. I was supposed to be excited. You held on to me, proud of me and frightened for the both of us. It was finally beginning to sink in: this chapter in our lives was closing.

We arose and sat down together in the living room, surrounded by my closest friends. No one said a word; there was nothing to say. We sat still while a thousand memories moved around the apartment like ghosts. I felt like a piece of me was dying.

I loaded my bags into the car and we said goodbye for the last time. It passed so quickly‚ we kissed again before you walked away. I wiped the tears off of my face, forced a smile, and said goodbye once more. I got into the car.

As we drove away, you stood alone on the corner. You stopped to wave, and your bleached hair, sad blue eyes, and bright red coat reduced everything else to black and white. At that moment, nothing mattered more than holding on.

I didn’t wake you with kisses that morning. I spent the plane ride thinking of our many goodbyes, mostly remembering how you looked on that street corner, disappearing into the distance. You were sad, beautiful, and everything else you’ve ever meant to me. You were a portrait burned into my memory like white noise under the thoughts racing through my head. I hold on to that moment tightly, like a little piece of you that I can keep forever.