Monday, February 10, 2014


I got a do over. Twice. I liked a boy and a boy liked me. I was young. Everyone else seemed to know what they were doing. It was the first time I confessed to my parents I thought I had a boyfriend. That first summer I was invited to the family cabin and I fantasized about after school specials and summer camp movies. It was all I had to go on. I could hardly muster holding his hand. I was terrified. A non existent nothing that made me petrified. After 3 long days his mom dropped me at home and while all our friends waited in the car I pecked him on the cheek. I thought I would die. 

5 years later a boy liked me and I liked a boy. We returned to the cabin, this time to chaperone his little sister and her friends. They were strange little women and I still felt like a girl. We were the focus of their attention. In the dark of night I ran off the end of the dock jumping into the black water causing them to pause in awe if only for that second. Then erupted, when he jumped off the dock splashing them all and swam to me. We held hands in the water. In the dark. Floating. After they all went to bed we took the canoe out and laid in the bottom talking. With only the moon. 

It was 5 years later. I live in a bright flashy city where there are no cabins or lakes. He kisses me under a street light, not unlike a moon. 

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