I took Katie home with me last Sunday. I drove her all around. We sat in your driveway and we talked on his stools and I showed her the intersection of 100 East and Center Street.
Because I wanted her to see where everything happened.
I wanted her to see where we road bikes and looked at Christmas lights and milked goats in your back yard. I wanted her to see the roof we wished on and the deck where we played cards. I wanted her to see the G and hill park and my little, one-step porch.
I wanted her to see the places where my heart grew.
***
One day, you'll trade your little basement bedroom for a window on the third floor, and you'll give up your early morning classes for late night runs. And you'll see faces you don't recognize, and you'll learn stories you've never heard.
But, you know, something funny happens when you come to college.
Sunday night dance parties and fires in the canyon change faces you didn't recognize into people you don't want to forget.
And you'll stay up late telling stories, because no one really sleeps here, and you'll start to realize why she smiles that way. And you'll hear about past love and happy days and all those times they went to In and Out at midnight.
And she'll listen to you too.
And it's like, all of a sudden, you'll start to see all of the moments and people and love that made you. And you'll kiss your thumb after every pinky promise, and fortune cookies will make you sentimental.
And you'll go to sleep smiling because everything usually works out.
***
I fell in love with the mountains on rainy mornings, and the way the stars shine brighter when it's warm outside.
My heart needed that street lamp and hers got that that pretty wooden bench.
And we all see things a little differently, but I guess that's just because hearts don't grow the same.
-Linds
