The Anatomy of a Friend

The Anatomy of a Friend

I hadn’t seen your mom since something like second grade, but she recognized me at a wedding the other day. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but for me it took some time. She said you’re doing fine. Before leaving, I asked her to pass along my greetings, but I’m left here with a feeling like

How could a kid I made flower bracelets with
be a stranger?

We were best friends or something like it once.

I remember how you were pigeoned toed. And your brother was always mean. There was an old piano by the kitchen hallway in your house. At night, I’d press the keys on my way to the bathroom if no one was around. I learned how to push them soft enough that the insides wouldn’t make a sound. I couldn’t help myself - I just never understood how anyone could make something out of nothing the way hands do with music.

I still wish I could make anything out of something some times. 

I guess some insecurities you never grow old enough to shake, even when they were born from the dreams of second grade.

You were my first friend with glasses and freckles and red hair. And you always sat down on the grass a little weird. I even saw an album cover that reminded me of you once, a girl with her shoes turned in. At least, that’s how I seem to remember you back then.

I miss swimming in normal clothes
that clung heavy to our skin.

I really haven’t felt the weight of anything quite like it since.

Even the trees felt bigger then.

But I haven’t seen you since something like second grade. So it wouldn’t hurt my feelings if you didn’t recognize me these days.

I’m not afraid of the dark anymore. And I’ve stopped trying to run faster than all of the boys. And hey, I’ve got my own pair of glasses now just like you - I’ve even got a kid.

Come to think of it,
She has her own best friend.
And they do a lot of the same shit that we once did.

5am
Leith Ross

until next time. - cd