#43
You know when you’re in a turn lane and both you and the car in front of you have your turn signals on? There’s a brief moment when both sets of lights flash at the exact same time. For a few seconds, both lights are in sync pulsing in the same rhythm. Then just as quickly as this occurs, both fall into their own opposing patterns, the first car initiates movement, the turn is made, and both cars drive off to their own respective destinations.
I never would’ve guessed you would be what you are to me now those four years I spent with you in the back of my mind. For six months, I was undoubtably the luckiest guy. I knew it then, I miss it now. Like turn signals of two different cars, our lights lined up for a short while. I still remember exactly how your eyes shined in that parking lot between Coldstone and Target. You were looking at me. I wasn’t just in the same direction as your eyes were pointed towards. You were looking at me, and what I saw in that instance is something I couldn’t possibly forget.
We fell out of sync. We catch up every once in a while, but you’re going in one direction and I’m going in another. One thing I’m struggling with is knowing it’s improbable that we’d be able to pick up where we left off, but not wanting to let go. I swore I never would, but at the end of the day, your name doesn’t light up my screen anymore. It rarely does. And when it does, it reads the same, or a variation of what it always does. “Things have been alright, just been real busy. Hopefully we can catch up soon.”
We’ve made the turn and I can see you driving away. I can tell myself that we’re both headed to the same destination and you’re just taking a different route, but I’d be lying to myself. I have been lying to myself. But wherever you’re going, you still have my music on your iPod. I hope when it shuffles to one of my songs on one of your long drives, you smile. Some of those songs are about you. And they mean so much to me. You mean so much to me.
You always will.
