by Cat Holloway<\/p>\n
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I walk with you through the old neighborhood where we grew up.\u00a0 We laugh about the old times, the times when we were close.\u00a0 Passing by the autumn-painted trees, we look at the houses and decide which has the coziest porch, like we would then.\u00a0 It\u2019s funny how we\u2019ve changed.\u00a0 My hair has lost its blondness, and my skin has grown pale.\u00a0 Something\u2019s changed about you, too, but I can\u2019t decide what it is.<\/p>\n
An old river birch appears on the right, the paper bark curling off.\u00a0 You used to gather handfuls of it, writing a story on each piece.\u00a0 They were usually about me being a mean princess who got banished to a dungeon.\u00a0 You said that was where I belonged.\u00a0 It\u2019s funny.\u00a0 We laugh.\u00a0 I snatch a piece, fingering it.\u00a0 It pokes my skin; it pokes my memory.<\/p>\n
I ask if you remember making soup from the spring tree-flowers.\u00a0 How we filled a bucket with hose-water, grass clippings, and flower petals.\u00a0 How we left it on the driveway for a week. How the neighbor-kid smelled it and then thew up on the concrete.\u00a0 It\u2019s funny. We laugh.<\/p>\n
We dip up and down the uneven sidewalk.\u00a0 I ask if you remember burying me under a pile of pillows in the basement.\u00a0 How you promised you wouldn\u2019t leave.\u00a0 How you switched off the lights and went upstairs, leaving me alone.<\/p>\n
We walk faster as we talk about our teenage years, trampling the leaves under our feet.\u00a0 How we\u2019d scream at each other and then share the gossip we heard.\u00a0 How you would take my clothes.\u00a0 How I\u2019d sneak into your room to take them back.\u00a0 How you\u2019d yell at me for going in.\u00a0 It\u2019s funny.\u00a0 We laugh.<\/p>\n
I rip pieces off my river birch bark and mention your first boyfriend.\u00a0 How he was a tall, skinny boy.\u00a0 How you would call him your \u201cman,\u201d and I\u2019d roll my eyes and call him your \u201cboy.\u201d\u00a0 How I\u2019d have to go around everywhere with you two because you weren\u2019t allowed to date.\u00a0 How you pretended I wasn\u2019t there.<\/p>\n
I ask if you remember Homecoming my sophomore year.\u00a0 How my date ditched me during the dance.\u00a0 How you found me alone and stayed with me the rest of the night.\u00a0 How you said he wasn\u2019t worthy of your sister anyway.\u00a0 How we went home and stayed up all night, eating ice cream and watching Gilmore Girls.<\/em><\/p>\n The path turns uphill.\u00a0 We breathe harder, deeper, faster.\u00a0 We reach the top and watch the orange sun stroll down the sky to kiss the earth.\u00a0 I remember once when we took an evening walk like this, right before you left for college.\u00a0 How mad I was that you were going out of state, just to be with some boy.\u00a0 How I said that all you ever did was leave, and you told me to grow up.\u00a0 How I didn\u2019t forgive you.\u00a0 It\u2019s funny, but you don\u2019t laugh.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy don\u2019t we do this more often?\u201d I ask.<\/p>\n \u201cBecause you won\u2019t forgive me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u00a0 But there\u2019s nothing to forgive.\u201d<\/p>\n The birch bark drops from my fingers as it occurs to me.\u00a0 How the sun dipped down, and the night set in.\u00a0 How the breeze tangled my hair.\u00a0 How I haven\u2019t forgiven you.\u00a0 How you\u2019re not even here.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Cat Holloway is a sophomore Creative Writing major at the University of Nebraska at Omaha.<\/p>\n
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