january 6th

i should have known everything would have changed when we met at that crosswalk.
it was just too picturesque. too fit to be in a romantic comedy.
all of our roommates chatting away, you and i, the lone wanderers falling behind noise.
laughing at the where i'm from. me gasping at where you were serving your mission.
me forgetting to call you.
you surpassing my expectations, somehow getting my number.
i just knew.

call me sentimental. over-emotional. silly. hopeless.
but i miss it all.

stopping by before curfew to drop off a picture of your good-side,
you laughing mercilessly at the fact it was a picture of the back of your head.
sitting by the fire on that first date.
your face when i told you about my color-association disorder.
you then asking me what color you name was. what color my name was. what color everything was.
calling randomly to see that swedish film that we both loved.
watching it,
i looked at you, and the realization dawned upon me that i could get used to this.
that man who said "she's italian, eh? they're feisty, but man they are downright gorgeous."
you, with a nod of affirmation, saying "yes, they sure are." then smiling at me.
me ranting and raving over swedish brownies,
green with envy that you get to eat them for the next two years.
arguing about which country made the better meatballs.
sitting on the couch, drinking, nay, eating, vanilla malts.
having dance parties with my roommates.
showing each other inventive music videos. each one topping the other.
having ping pong tournaments with the gang.
you laughing at me when i would throw the paddle across the room and declare i was done playing.
those starbursts. only writing on my favorite color,
you remembered everything.
watching youtube videos until you had to leave.
trying to teach me to ice skate. then realizing it would be a whole lot easier to just hold my hand.
being my dancing twin,
no one else can seem to match my elongated moves of fury.
sitting in the dark actually listening to music.
seeing late night movies against your will that you ended up enjoying.
being a better bowler than everyone in the group.
sitting over my shoulder as i played temple run on your ipad,
laughing at me when i shrieked with joy.
making your mom's soup for me after devotional.
leaving me notes by the door, teaching me slowly that texting isn't the only thing that matters.

i'll see you soon enough,
maybe we'll meet in chicago?
you know, because you love that city so dearly.
and because that was the song that was playing when you packed everything up from felt hall.
maybe in your next letter you'll send a ray of that scandinavian sun?