Goodbye, July...

Same polka-dotted sheet, different tree, and this tree had lights shining on it that made it glow in a way it was hard not to stare at all night. That's one of my favorite things, the way things glow outside at night in unnatural light. Everything gets sharper and more real looking than it ever does in daylight. We laughed at everything, sprawled out across that sheet, and after the first three songs at least two of us wanted to marry the first accordianist. They introduced the drummer as "the late, great..." and everyone assumed it was because he arrived late, but I've decided that it's because he's a zombie, and no one will ever change my mind. "That guy in the attic who came downstairs sometimes." There went the first day.

Why is it that even when you want someone to be gone, saying goodbye can feel like the end of the world? Or the end of a world, anyway. He said, "I might not see you again for twenty or thirty or forty years. You could get married and move around the world..." I hope so.

In four hours I'll be on the four uptown to meet Falton, and even though I know we'll cringe a bit, it will be both fantastic and dreamy, and maybe I'll be seventeen again. An island with a curfew... I'm excited and happy, and remembering how easy fun can be. I can't wait until the sun goes down. One thousand things will happen to make me think of you, and I'll wish you were there, and maybe I'll pretend that you are, sitting next to me like you were in that dream when I wouldn't turn to look. That's silly, isn't it? It's okay. I'll give myself some leeway.