I remember weekly poker nights that lasted long into the night, fueled by sparkling cider and laughter.
I remember how unashamedly I lay my head down and power napped in the library before starting the essay that seemed impossible.
I remember choking on irony and tragedy as the vet told me she’d finally feel relief right before she died.
I remember the promised exchange of feedback for labor, unfairly broken.
I remember the moment I decided I couldn’t love her anymore and how I stopped saying those three words altogether.
I remember dancing along to Cats wearing ears and a tail, always wishing I could be the powerfully graceful white cat.
I remember the comfortingly silent Skype calls that we refused to end until 4am.
I remember how she and I stopped pretending to like each other yet continued to spend time together for the sake of our friends.
I remember her telling me I was too young to have the red marker and realizing that sometimes hatred is completely undeserved.
I remember having to choose between being a good friend and staying at the party for ten more minutes to ring in the New Year. I remember making the right decision.
I remember calling her once a day for ten days, only needing to hear that she knew she did wrong and that she was sorry for betraying me.
I remember how at the end of the night he meticulously removed every single one of the fifty-seven bobby pins that held my prom updo together.
I remember taking deep breaths and giving myself a pep talk before dialing the numbers.
If you liked this post, be sure to read I Remember #1.