His name was Joel and he was studying to become a geologist.
In fact at one point, i was a student and he was my T.A.
We lived together in a little house on Marshal St. that my Mom called "little house on the prairie."
We fought til we would run out of breath.
And yet when it was over... I had never hurt so much.
I never got a chance to say bye to his family. It had ended so bad.
Luckily, me and joel somehow found our awkwardly easy way into friendship... and i'm glad for it. He was SUCH a part of my life. Of my growing up. Of learning my heart.
It would be a shame if he wasn't a friend.
It took awhile to get here.
We can talk relationships without getting jealous or thinking, "what if."
When he moved away to Colorado, i remember how strange it was to think he wouldn't be in this small town. We hardly saw each other anyway, but it was still a feeling of comfort to know he was still here.
This weekend I saw his dad Tom play in his band, Black Magic at the Iron Horse Pub. I hadn't seen Tom in years... I never got to say bye after our break-up. Time is a funny thing, how fast it goes. It was great to see him.
if you pass by "the little house on the prairie" i believe the door is still painted red. He did that long after I had moved out. I asked him why he did and he said, "you always said you wanted a red door."
M: "Did i look different? ha"