Letters to Strangers

You ran your hand along the inside of my thigh. One finger traced the edge of my skin, down just passed my knee. I was lying on my back, staring at the ceiling, and you were next to me on your side with your head on my shoulder, staring at me, or the wall, or nothing. Everything was chaotic and blue from the blanket you draped over you window, and the curtains along the sliding glass door, and outside it was golden with the drifting sun and shifting skies.

I can't remember the conversation, I don't think it matters much anyway, but I know the video-memory of the day we first kissed was playing back and forth in my mind, it was just like this - me, lying on my back, you running your fingers across my arms, or down my leg. You laying on your side with your head propped up on your elbow. Except I had my eyes closed, and I was breathing slowly and yawning and you were staring at me, and you told me you were so nervous.

I hummed quietly into the faux-sunshine that was the lamp on your dresser, your door was closed, it felt like we hardly knew each other and, still, it made more sense than anything to be there. You ran your hand through my hair, "You're going to make me fall asleep."

And you touched my cheek and my lips, and you took my face in your hand, leaned over and kissed me like it had happened thousands of times before. I smiled, and laughed quietly. "I lied." I said, and I kissed you.

Days go by, now, and the sun beats down on the clay soil, here, and it just gets hotter. The lake is filled higher than I've ever seen it, and it's amazing that all of our fears washed away with the storm that destroyed so much. And that's what I said, I guess, the week Deven killed himself. I was sad, I was destroyed mentally on the inside and I spent an entire night all alone outside of my middle school, laying on the cement next to the broiler so it was warm, crying. I had shoved you away, and I told you to just, "Please go inside and go to sleep, I'll be fine." and you watched me walk away and down the road, and you knew I would turn left instead of right and you said, then, "If you need to come back and crawl into bed with me, that's fine, I'll just have to hide you in the morning." But I didn't, but the next morning you found me walking barefoot, alone, to the park and you brought me strawberries and you said, "I know you need to be alone." and you kissed me goodbye before you went to work, and that's what I said. I said, "You know what I've realized? The biggest storms are the best," and I was staring at the ceiling, "Because they give you a chance to go back through and realize that, even though the old pathways are gone, there are new ones that the weather's made, and even though everything sucks, it's fresh and new and it's just waiting for you to realize that."

I realize I'm not the nicest person, and one day in your kitchen I was being mean to you and you were being nice to me and I said, "Why do you do that?" and you said I deserved it and, for fucks sake, I thought that the strangest thing.

I think from now on I'm going to try harder. I promise. I realize I need to tell you what's going on, but sometimes it just seems so petty that the only reason I'm feeling stupid and angry is because the reason I was feeling stupid and angry was so stupid it made me angry. And I want you to know that when I said, "When you can't tell if I'd rather be alone, or if I'd rather be with you, it means I'd rather be with you, because I'm not alone." I meant it. All you've got to do is think of something to do.

Make me cook for you.
If I look stupid, don't cook for me.
And let me cook for you.

I remember last year on Independence Day we missed the fireworks and sat on a hill with a blanket, staring at the sky. I said, "We've been together a year." and I smiled. In the midst of so much pain and so much idiotic time wasted on being depressed and trying to figure out who I was, you were there to carry me through it, and you still are. And who I was was sitting in front of me, staring at me, blasting foghorns and popping balloons in my ear.

I walk barefoot for a reason. I don't ever want to forget the feeling of cold grass on my feet, the feeling of blisters on my heels, or mud up to my ankles. I was really sad the day you turned around because you didn't want to get your new shoes dirty. I feel like you've lost that part of you, the part that doesn't care about shoes or how muddy they get, and that's terrible because I just re-found her. And I was really frustrated the day you said, "All of that is bad music and if you turned it on I'd leave the house." because when I got quiet and you asked me what it was and I told you, "That's just a suppressed side of me that you don't know and you're already kicking her out." you didn't even say you were sorry.

And last week was stupid. Last week was stupid because I was angry and I couldn't let it go because you weren't yourself. And last night you called me and somehow you made it better because you were outside for three days in the rain, hitting drums, waking up at five in the morning to check up on children, and I think you found out you missed that part of you. And so we planned on trips to Gumboot and Martins Dairy and Squaw Valley Creek, and wherever Saw and that other girl want to go. And I told you about the lilies and you said, "That's so awesome!" and when I said we should go find the ones just for Siskiyou you said, "Let's do it! I know how to read topographic maps." and I said, "I know the soil and the climate they like!" and it was fun.

And that moment with your head on my shoulder and my eyes glued to the ceiling was warming and quiet. To be there with you, and to just... be, and not have anything else. To not have to think about time, or people rushing in, or what we were going to eat. It felt normal, and it felt good.

And I promise, as much as you do.