more human than human
Things used to be different between you and I. Maybe some
of it is my fault, but I was young and scared. You should
have noticed what was going on, but that doesn't matter
Do you remember Sundays? I do. They were our day. Donuts
after church, skating in the afternoon. Later, when you
learned how to make sticky buns, we started having those
and jello for breakfast. Do you remember? I do. They were
some of my favorite times.
Do you remember playing cards with me? We played crib. All
the time. When you didn't have a crib board, we used
pennies to track our score. Even after you got a crib
board, we still sometimes used pennies. For old time's
Do you remember when I cut off all my hair in grade 10?
You didn't really think I'd do it. You looked so surprised
when we met in front of the WCB building.
Do you remember how you used to always walk on the outside
of the sidewalk? You told me that's how a man should treat
a woman. Same with how you always opened my car door
first, and took my jacket, and pulled out my chair. I
still feel special whenever someone does that for me.
Why do I feel like all I have is memories to cling to, and
nothing in the future? You always seem uneasy around me.
Did I do something wrong? I never feel at home when I'm at
your house; more like a guest who has over stayed their
welcome. Someone who was invited out of obligation. I know
you would never mean it that way. That's why I don't come
around so much anymore. I sometimes hope you'll call on
Wednesdays, so we can go out for dinner like we used to.
Just you and me.
It's really not the same as it used to be. I feel outcast;
or like something to be ashamed of.
Call me sometime.