It was an evening in late September when I knew we were losing each other.
I knew we were forgetting. So I wrote. I wrote it all, I described every memory I had with him, laced with the most magical details. The nights we talked on the phone until sunrise, the secret promises we made in the drive-thru line, the summer days he carried me across the parking lot to get ice cream. I combed through my journal entries hoping I could find the moment — the moment it all started fading. As a hopeless romantic, a firm believer in fairytales and happy endings, I didn’t understand how the stars had become so scattered and desperately clung to the hope that I could put them back in line.
That night we sat on the kitchen counter eating takeout Indian food right up until our normal bedtime. When we began to yawn you loaded blankets and pillows into the truck and I made a pot of coffee with more beans than probably necessary.
We cozied into the front seat and sipped from our shared thermos, burning our lips on the edge. Your laughter kept wrapping around me like the warmth from a living room hearth. We listened to ‘90s hits and reminisced about high school and Pearl Jam albums. All the falling I’d been doing this year felt safely in the past as we drove.
“Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer is an oil painting, autumn is a mosaic of them all.” — Stanley Horowitz
Early in my artistic journey, macro photography beckoned.
The sharp focus of a water droplet on a flower petal is dramatic and beautiful. There’s something fascinating about the ordinary, something that draws you in to the very simplicity of the subject. Close-up images are compelling, even magical. With all the chaos and hubbub of everyday life, seeing something so simple and plain can be a breath of fresh air. It can help you appreciate what life has in store and allow you to stop, ground yourself, and get ready to jump back into the chaos once again!
I’m writing this letter to thank you for never leaving me, even after all this time, after I went ahead and grew up. Even now – you stay. And I love you, because I need you, and to be able to pretend, and you know me like no one else could.
I feel you close by, just a whisper’s distance, even when life gets overwhelming and my Second Star seems quite far away. You are in my periphery always, and I want you to know that I catch a precious glimpse of you each time you come to visit like the treasured company you are.