Choice

About Choice

Please, keep my dream safe.

Well….

That last summer.
The very last.
It’s what they all write about, or sing about, or at least think about. Most of them…
I don’t remember the actual summer, just fractions of thoughts I had.
It’s not even an actual event anymore, just a distinct feeling.
A feeling I am petrified of losing.

It was only a few weeks but the feeling of before and after this, was ever so present.
No one said anything but we knew that this would be what we remembered from being young.

And then my friend Colin…he wrote the script. With Jeff. He had a Wunder-baum that made his trusty Nissan Pathfinder smell like dentist, and it drowned the smell of mold he couldn’t get rid of, but the air conditioner worked fine and he didn’t care about sandy feet on the soft black carpet lining.
We drove places and he told me he once was blind, and I looked out the window and when we came back I sent his sister pictures of the ocean in an envelope.

I don’t miss the other her.
But I miss her fading August tan and that stupid shell necklace, and I can´t believe I took the blond streaks in her hair for granted.
I don’t miss her, but I miss her friend’s beach-town hairdo and that brown flowered couch at night, and I hope I’ll always remember the music in my head that I think the blond one stole with my shell necklace.
We made dumb promises to never miss a sunset again. Hmm….It was only a few weeks, but I miss the perfect mess of everything beautiful reaching its peak, knowing that some day soon I’d need to make that decision.
That one important choice.
I miss knowing that, and still having the feeling that we had all night.
At least we had all of that night.

Now don´t you dare write this off as sappy nostalgia.
Some days the fumes from these memories is the only thing that keeps me breathing.

So, I’m asking you again.
Please, keep my dream safe.