Runaway

I Remember...

I remember the revving of your truck
    I remember your hand over mine, helping me shift to the next gear while I sat in the passenger seat.
    I remember Tim Mcgraw rolling out the windows, dancing around the warm summer sun
    I remember the weight of the wrench when I sat with you in the garage, ‘helping you’ fix the tractors while dressed in pastel pink and glitter. I remember running after you in my “clip clops”
How I hated that name
Why not just call them heels?
I remember wanting to ask you why.
    I remember rambling off the first thought that came to my 6 year old mind, the smile that put the sun to shame radiating love from your face when you asked me where I could have possibly gotten that idea. I’d never tell you I pulled it out of a hat, just to feel you put your finger to my temple and ask “Are you thinking about it?”
        I remember stepping on your feet, laughing as Country played in the background. I would never admit it to you, but I didn’t, and still don’t, mind the acoustic guitar that filled the house when you were working.
    I remember growing up slowly, always going to you with the slightest bit of news. You didn’t seem the slightest bit surprised that I passed my permit test with a 95. “The big truck question, wasn’t it?” You asked and I just laughed because of course you would have known.
    I remember how proud you were at my dollar raise-I hadn’t realized how big of a deal it was until the look of pure joy lit up your so often dark eyes.
I remember the first time the ambulance came. The lights had blinded my heart, the sirens deafening my rational thoughts with “He's going to be Okay, he's going to be okay.. He has to be okay.”
I remember the ABS system coming on.
    I was scared. You were the neighborhood mechanic. You could fix it, you fixed everything.
    I remember telling you about it. I remember the promise of helping you fix it in the morning.
    I don’t remember saying “I love you” that night. I was just too tired to spend a few seconds of my night to say it outloud.
            I remember never forgiving myself.
    The confusion when Chris woke me up so suddenly was disorienting, I didn't know what was going on.
            The brown uniforms of cops clashing with the Blue of Ems revealed the truth. My heart stopped. Time stopped. The world, in that exact moment, stopped.
    The air was too thick, too hot, too calming and soft for the dread that crashed around me like cold, suffocating waves while I heaved on the back porch. I couldn't catch my breath.
    I remember begging God to let you come home ( Even though neither of us would've expected those words to leave my mouth).
    I remember anger
    I remember fear
            I remember cold, searing rain drops burning my skin because of all the days why did it have to rain now?
            I remember cursing and going crazy. I remember hating myself. I remember hating everyone else. I remember hating God, the world.
I remember hating you.
           I remember hurt, betrayal, agony.
                       Loneliness.
        Love.
I remember loving you.
            But I remember most of all, missing you.