ɢᴜʏ ɢᴇʀᴍᴀɪɴᴇ
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 the wheels of the plane touched down in Minnesota, all I wanted to do was see my mom. I hadn't realized how much I missed her until I knew that within minutes I'd be back in her arms. I'd be back in my own room, waking up to the sound of her humming along with The Smiths every morning. I could dance around with her in my socks and groan when she took out her camera. I'd go back to the scent of cinnamon candles burning at all hours. I could listen to the story of how she met dad over every dinner, and how much I remind her of him.
"My boy," she whispered once I was engulfed in her hug. "My baby boy is finally home."
"I missed you, Mama."
"I missed you so much too, G. The house was quiet without you, I had to call Eric to come home."
"Did he?"
"Of course," she laughed. "A boy always comes back to his mother."
I smiled and hugged her again. My lungs filled with the smell of her perfume. Nothing says home more than her.
"Your father would be so proud of you. We both get more proud of you every day," Mom told me, stroking her fingers through my hair.
She always talked about my dad like he was still here. She'd say things like 'that's your dad's favorite band' or 'turn on football, your dad loves it', when she missed him most. And hearing about him like he was still teaching me to play catch or ride a bike made me feel, for just a second, that he had never left. He's always with us, my mom would remind me, we just can't see him. He was with me when we beat Iceland. He's with my mom anytime she looks at old photos. He was with my brother on his first day of college. He'll never go away because, unlike people, ghosts are forever. They are memories and time capsules of how we came to be.
"We need to cut this," she quickly added.
"No, no," I protested, freeing my hair from her complaints. "I like it longer."
Mom laughed and kissed my temple. "Okay, we'll leave it long, if that's what you want."
☆∵☆∵☆∵☆∵☆∵☆∵☆∵☆∵☆∵☆∵☆
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓. The last time that this was real. Fulton once read me a quote that said, 'How sad it is! I shall grow old, and horrible, and dreadful. But this picture will remain always young.' I didn't understand the meaning of it until now. This team would always be childish and boisterous, even when our hairs gray and faces wrinkle--because we live through our memories, all of us. I know I won't have to talk to them every day to still be close. Friendship isn't about how much time you spend together, it's about the simple acts that show our love. Whether it's standing close together when it's cold or sharing water when someone ran out. It's being able to bicker like siblings without holding a grudge. It's knowing that Dwayne is allergic to peanuts and that Averman will only eat vegetables if they are cooked (he is very strict about this one, it's weird). Friendship is Dean and Fulton turning down their music when the girls are trying to sleep. It's Kenny walking on your back if it's sore. It's convincing Adam that he's had enough practice for the day. It's asking Jesse if he did the homework and him saying 'we had homework?'. It's Charlie pouring water on a marshmallow when Goldberg couldn't control the flames. It's sitting in silence together because that's better than being alone. We might not be perfect, and I mean that because hell, we never have been, but we are there for each other.
Jesse's shoulder was against mine as we laughed at Averman's terrible singing in Bombay's backyard. Dwayne strummed 'We are the Champions' on a guitar--why Bombay even had one in the first place, I don't know. We were all sitting around the fire, soaking up each other's presence and memorizing the sound of our content voices. Two logs over from me sat Maeve, Adam, and Julie--the three of them sidetracked in a conversation about something in California. Mae's head rested against Adam's shoulder and she gripped his arm like she was scared to let go. The smoke of the fire made her eyes glossy. Her skin glowed under the flickering blaze. I don't know where we are in the grand scheme of things, but it was a start. This had to be the start of something more. She caught me looking at her and gave Adam a quick pat, she whispered in his ear and he nodded solemnly. I watched her walk over to me, fiddling with a paper in her hands.
