A Year

It's been a year now. I guess it's time to pull myself together. I know someone will try to talk to me about how we all grieve in different ways at different rates, but what I've been doing isn't grief, it's a feeble attempt at delusion.

My living on the West Coast (and being poor) means years pass between us being together in person, making it easy for me to pretend that we're just busy. We're too busy for midnight phone calls about past shenanigans and hometown gossip. We definitely are too busy for random "remember that time" text throughout the day.My broken heart isn't fooled a bit, but the rest of me clings to self preservation.

We laughed so hard at anything and nothing. We had so many adventures.

Can you believe we came home one time, unloaded our big black CD cases and the treasures we’d collected from thrift shops, record stores, used book stores…..and it was the last time?