It’s hot for September, but in those tiny blue shorts she
gave me goose bumps. My hand
brushed her leg and her skin felt like the faded white sand made soft after
millions of years of rocks and sea life crashing and decomposing together. Lying
next to each other on beach towels we laughed in envy as we watched a small
group of teenage girls teaching each other how to shake their ass out of sight
from their parents. Hungry afternoon clouds quickly swallowed the sun, so we
packed up our gear and zip closed my colorful striped cooler. I never had those
youthful experiences as a girl.
Awaken the next morning to the chirps, cries, and buzz of birds, squirrels, and cicada; I realized I’m closer to fifty than she is to thirty. I try to convince myself that’s okay, but the fleeting weight of time crushes me like waves crashing onto the rocky coast. She didn’t stay the night. It’s not as though I expected her to, but I had dreamed of being held by her long arms, arms that flap like a seagull when she dances. Arms that make me smile.
Heading to refill my glass of water, I recognized I drank too much, and hoped to find my friend asleep on the brown leather couch in the living room. My feet stick to the kitchen floor splashed with fruit juice, vodka and white wine from the night before. Through squinted eyes I noticed her abandoned half empty glass sitting on the edge of a stack of fashion magazines I barely look at any more, leaving a dark condensation ring on the surface. All the lights were left on and the TV screen was brilliant blue, like the bachelor buttons cut from my garden and placed in a glass vase, bending towards the adjacent window and the rising late summer sun. The message “No Signal!” bounced across the electronic surface like a ball from a video game when I was young.
Awaken the next morning to the chirps, cries, and buzz of birds, squirrels, and cicada; I realized I’m closer to fifty than she is to thirty. I try to convince myself that’s okay, but the fleeting weight of time crushes me like waves crashing onto the rocky coast. She didn’t stay the night. It’s not as though I expected her to, but I had dreamed of being held by her long arms, arms that flap like a seagull when she dances. Arms that make me smile.
Heading to refill my glass of water, I recognized I drank too much, and hoped to find my friend asleep on the brown leather couch in the living room. My feet stick to the kitchen floor splashed with fruit juice, vodka and white wine from the night before. Through squinted eyes I noticed her abandoned half empty glass sitting on the edge of a stack of fashion magazines I barely look at any more, leaving a dark condensation ring on the surface. All the lights were left on and the TV screen was brilliant blue, like the bachelor buttons cut from my garden and placed in a glass vase, bending towards the adjacent window and the rising late summer sun. The message “No Signal!” bounced across the electronic surface like a ball from a video game when I was young.
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