A Memoir

I remember the first time I met you.
It was a warm day, and I had gone on a walk to take a few pictures of the beautiful scenery. A girl rode down the street on her bike, and I stopped to talk. She told me she was headed to your house, so I asked if I could come with.

I remember we sat on your porch and talked for an hour, then you walked me home because it was dark.

I remember when we would walk by the Peppermint place and waste our money on chocolate, then find a random park and eat it.

I remember how we made a list of everything we should do while hanging out, and I wrote it in your back yard with chalk.
I remember how the rain washed it away, so you wrote it down in your phone.
I remember how we didn't even finish it.

I remember that one time we rode our bikes in the pouring rain just to go buy gummy worms because we were both craving them.

I remember how we used to catch random animals, give them bizarre names and take care of them. For some reason they always ran away. Gir the dog, Ferdinand the snake, and I'm pretty sure there were more.

I remember how the only time you ever got mad at me was when you tried to teach me to play the piano and I sucked at it.

I remember how you would always deal with my stupid urges to watch movies made in the 1940's, and watch them with me anyway.

I remember how we always joked we would be in an amazing band together, but never made it.

I remember how we used to find a house with the biggest hills in it's yard and roll down them for hours.

I remember how we would sit in your kitchen on those wonderful ikea chairs and spin for hours when we couldn't think of much else to do.

I remember how you would walk to my house without a jacket in a blizzard, just so we could hang out for 10 minutes.

I remember when we watched the stars in a park in Draper in the middle of the night.
I remember how you gave me your jacket because it was cold outside.

I remember how you would walk me home every day and we would have the coolest conversations.

I remember that one time when you were terrified to cut your hair, but I told you that your hair was getting a little ratty and I liked short hair, so you cut it.

I remember how you were too shy to play guitar around me, even though I tried to teach you.

I remember how we would watch random movies all the time in your basement, and you would grab my hand because yours was cold. I knew you were lying; your hands were always warmer than mine.

I remember how your mom would drive us to get smoothies, or take us to a random store to hang out.
I remember how she would talk forever about how much she missed Hawaii, or tell me embarrassing stories about your childhood.

I remember that one time we went to Kohlers with a bunch of people, and Kirsten pushed us around in a shopping cart until we got kicked out.

I remember when we threw you a mini birthday party, and your mom put on the cat version of happy birthday, and as you listened to a chorus of felines singing "Happy birthday" you were tackled to the floor by your mom, trying to wrap a streamer around you and giving you a kiss on the cheek.

I remember how we would walk up the hill behind your house and sit on it for hours, just talking and watching the lights of glowing buildings.

I remember that one time we tried to roast marshmallows in your backyard, but ended up nearly blowing up your house by spraying it with axe.

I remember how we'd be in the middle of a conversation when you would interject by saying "I just had a flashback" but then would feel guilty about interrupting me before telling your story.

I remember how we tried to bake cookies that one time at your house, but your dad made them for us because he had a superior recipe.

I remember how my knee would always start hurting, and you would offer to be my crutch as I walked home.

I remember how we would always sit on your roof and talk. You would always have to force me to come down because I was terribly afraid of heights.
I remember how I used to have to borrow your pants because I didn't want the shingles to scratch my legs up.

I remember when we ditched school to go to iHop for breakfast.

I remember when we got kicked out of Bed Bath and Beyond for lying on all the beds and looking like suspicious teenagers.

I remember that time we went to a dance in Lehi. I remember how we sat outside instead of dancing inside with all the other random people.
I remember how we dressed in formal clothes even though everyone else had casual clothes on.
I remember how it was cold and windy outside, and my dress caught the wind, but you covered your eyes and turned away.
I remember how we went up the street and laid in the middle of the road and watched the stars while Alyse and Carlos slow danced under a streetlight. I remember how you, Aubrey, and I all held hands.
I remember how we all said we would never lose contact. Ever.

I remember how we were sitting in your computer room looking at internet sites to expand the list of cool things to do when the clock struck midnight and it was the new year.
I remember how we walked up to our hill and watched all the beautiful lights as we sat on huge chunks of ice and snow fell down in front of us.

I remember how you used to deny it when I asked you if something was wrong, just so I wouldn't be worried.

I remember when I went to your family reunion Christmas party with you. I remember how all the adults smiled at us and teased us about what a cute couple we were. I remember you patiently explaining that we weren't a couple. I remember them not believing you. I remember the way you blushed, and how I knew you wanted their remarks to be true.

I remember how you would be so excited to hang out with me that you would sit at the park down the street from my house for hours waiting for me.

I remember when we would hang out at your house, and little Charlie and his friend would whisper to each other and taunt you about me. Children are adorable.

I remember how your mom let me borrow the Great Gatsby to help with my report, and it took me a year to return it.

I remember the day you were sitting on a table in the cafeteria being quiet. I remember when you told me your mom only had a year to live. I remember crying.
I remember she's still alive.

I remember the last day I got to see you before you left for the summer. I remember how we sat on my driveway with our backs against the garage door and we looked at the stars. We played a game. You named it: Please Pass the Bacon. We found our own constellations.
In the midst of our game, I remember we saw a shooting star. We wished on it.
I remember we couldn't tell each other what our wishes were. Its alright, I knew what yours was anyway. And I remember, mine was simply not to let you down.
Wishes on shooting stars don't always come true.

I remember giving you a big hug when you left. I remember you walking home in the dark.

I remember you telling me how much you liked me on the phone as I sat on my uncle's diving board above his pool. I remember saying I only wanted to be friends.

I remember saying only 10 words to you the following year.