seasons of a smile.

It is April and we are a miraculous age. We came from very different places; I was a small town girl from the east coast and you were way too refined for me in your west coast ways. My county is about 866 square miles small while you lived in a small sidewalked town only three hours from San Fransisco. Although I did get you to jump off of that base in Tennessee by the dam when I went away to college for a year. The beads of water clinging to your tanned skin in the bright light that was slowly disappearing behind scattered clouds.  
   
     The first time you came here was for my sister's birthday weekend. We weren't even in a relationship yet. Everything was still so new; fresh and exciting. You looked beautiful with your thick blond hair pulled loosely into a bun. And the bright purple of your button up shirt left a hint to the spring air. My hair was still black from the dye I had insisted on a couple months back but you could see traces of my own blond coming through at the roots. You stayed at my mom's house and for some reason she let you in my room. We'd laugh later when we would look back on my grandmother listening to our indiscretion late at night and asking me about it by confessing she also likes women. Go figure that would end up being the same night I ask you to be mine.

     I spent spring break at your college. Fermenting alcohol in a watermelon would later be the death of your bladder and the brunt of an ongoing joke for at least another year. But I didn't mind. I was just glad it wasn't me who peed the bed. You were a little tougher than me and could take the joke. I stole your tegan and sara sweatshirt before I left and later replaced it with a shirt I made that had a sloppy drawing of a mountain and scrawled writing saying "you're pretty much the peak of the mountain." I figured it would be a good trade off at least until it started getting colder. Then we could share the sweatshirt.

     You swore you were going to marry Eminem while I was chasing after Meryl Streep. I think you had a better shot than I did. You were the girl that always had something interesting to say; I'd sit on the edge of my seat just waiting for you to breathe. The girl that, when I touched you, my subconscious couldn't help but create a mental map of every inch of your body so that I never forget the difference between how it feels to touch your hand as opposed to how it feels to touch your arm.

~

     Saying that we found each other in our innocence would be an understatement. But we were lost in the colors of our love. I would break it and then try in every way I knew how to put it back together. It was like a game almost. A game of learning weaknesses, pushing them, and then an attempt to rebuild it. We clashed for over a year like we were trying too hard to fit a mold that just wouldn't go. And my fascination with the mechanics that held us together was no help. I could only take it apart so many times before it became too mangled to put back together.

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     We tried so many things to make our long distance relationship a little easier. I toyed with the idea of moving to close to your college and even interviewed for a few jobs. It finally caught up with us when I moved to Nashville and you graduated. Finally we got that shot and it lasted a month if that. I later asked if I had chased after the airport cab if you would have stayed. You said yes.

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     It's April again and we're still at a miraculous age. But everything is different now. You changed me for better and for worse. They say every tear has its reasons and every smile has its own season.