our way to fall

I've always wrapped my arms really tightly around the past. I have an old pizza box I made in Mrs. Levitt's fourth grade class that still holds every movie ticket, playbill, love letter I've ever gotten. It's April 25, and the familiar thunder outside brings me back to one year ago. I still remember exactly where I was. We were still a we and we were sitting on the floor of our empty new apartment and the air outside was getting warmer and stickier. It was drizzling and so I pulled out my copy of "The Secret of Nimh" that I had gotten from that five dollar bin at Walmart we spent so much time digging through. It was not even ten minutes into the movie when I had already picked out all the m&ms from the trail mix we were sharing and you were so mad at me but said you still loved me despite my neuroses (and no, adding a new pack of m&ms in there wouldn't be the same). And the rain was pitter pattering harder than it had been and before we knew it we were falling asleep on that pile of blankets we made and we were really happy.

Sometimes a year seems like forever, and other times, like tonight, it feels like the blink of an eye. It may seem strange that the details of a day like that would come to mind so effortlessly, but then again it doesn't seem that strange at all because why wouldn't you want to remember a time when you and he were a we and the we of you were happy?