The weather here is beautiful and it's giving me awful nostalgia. It makes me remember when we hung out in middle school in the summer time and we'd sleep in your basement and wake up at nine forty-five in the morning and sit on your kitchen counter and floor and have a bowl of Cocoa Puffs in those pink and green and blue plastic bowls with ridges. The temperature was warm enough to sit in your yard and let Luci come and love us.
I would put on my god-awful camo print capri pants and a white teeshirt and my grey and green vans that I bought because you had the same pair, and you'd wear jeans that you rolled mid-calf and a black teeshirt and all those plastic bracelets and strings you used to wear around your wrist with those tight necklaces you wore and that pair of black and pink shoes you had, and we'd talk about all kinds of irrelevant things, like the boys who are still best friends and the one of them that you dated and the other one who I still pine for.
I remember you had a cell phone and I did not. It was such an enviable piece of equipment because it lit up with colors when it rang, and you could read text messages from the front screen of the phone. Today, we would look at it and call it an obsolete, low resolution flip phone, but that's the phone I'll always remember you having before any other.
I was twelve when we remodeled my house. My room had no rug and the walls were made out of foam boards, and the place was opened up so that it was a 25' x 35' room and when The Young and the Hopeless came in the mailbox I put it in my CD player and turned it up and listened to it. That album is, to this day, the only album I ever was just in love with. I've never been so excited about a group of songs.
But today, the weather is just like I remember it was in the summer of 2004 when the breeze was warm and the sun's rays seemed to cover everything and the tree in your yard made shade and inside was just thirteen steps away.
I miss these times terribly; they are out of my reach.