i think today will be the kind of day that you like best.
Lazy and dim. The field full of daffodils bending to whisper their secrets to the wind, and the gray skies heavy with the promise of tears, yet never yielding them to earth's gravity. Well- not yet, anyway.
There are days like this when i think of you (back in 1860), with your cherry hairpins and muslin skirt, braiding flower wreaths with me at the field. Sometimes we would have a braiding race, and more often than not you would win- i've always harbored this secret suspicion that you got fairies to help you- but later when the sky grew somber and night fell you would crown me with an armful of wreaths before we skipped home, saying "A queen always has to look ready for her king to come and take her away for her happily ever after!"
I had laughed at the sheer absurdity of any king finding (much less falling in love with) either one of us in the countryside, had poked fun at your vivid imagination and your unwavering belief in happily ever afters. Yet not once did i stop to think that maybe, just maybe, your imagination was there to hide the fact that you so desperately wanted to fit in somewhere.
5 years later high school came and high school gone. Lou was still Lou, and Lisa the same; but the only difference was that Lou was going to the city with Ian and never coming back. Lou still had her sun-bleached blond locks and Lisa her dark curls, but the difference was that Lou had sparkly Bonnebelle barrettes while Lisa still used gingham ribbons. Lou was too caught up in her world of parties to notice that the more lipgloss tubes she bought, and the more boys she dated, the space for Lisa in her life grew smaller and smaller.
Lisa didn't send Lou off the day she left, but instead holed up in her room to look at kiddy pictures of them both, arms wrapped around each other with rays of sunlight caught between their eyelashes. Try as she might, she could only picture a vague outline of Lou's face when she told Lisa that they would be best friends "forever and always".
However, I could no longer see the staunch conviction in your face when i made you pinkie- promise that our forever would never end.
Its raining here. I wonder if the sky is crying where you are now.
c'est le ton qui fait la musique.
but don't expect me to be waiting by the railtracks
Labels: a rollercoaster feel
