Dear Camila,
I went to that strawberry farm today. The one that my family used to go to every year. I know that you know the place I'm talking about because I took you there.
My dad always liked going to that strawberry farm every year because his dad used to take him every year and he always used to say he would make a strawberry pie for his grandmother every time. We only made a strawberry pie once and it was good. All the other times we would just sit down in front of the TV and chow them down as we watched cartoons. There's nothing wrong with that. It was simple. And it was my father's own version of that tradition.
I took you that summer after we met at the concert. We texted for months and I finally decided that I was okay with you meeting my parents.
You showed up at my house in a bright white dress with yellow polka dots on it and a bright yellow bow on your head.
We drove down to the farm and we all split off with our own baskets to pick strawberries from the vines. You and me shared a basket so we ran off to a very secluded area of the farm and began to pick. It beginning to get really hot outside and I started to sweat. I wiped a bead of sweat from my forehead as you threw a strawberry at me. I looked up to find you giggling at me. I chuckled and threw one right back at you. We continued this for a few minutes until we were chasing each other around the area.
I eventually caught up with you but accidentally tripped over a vine and pulled you down with me. We chuckled uncontrollably for a minute, then it died down.
I don't know what came over me in that minute. Maybe it had something to do with the way you looked at me or the way you looked in that dress. Or maybe it was simply because I felt so close to you than I ever did with anyone ever, but I leaned forward and kiss you. Your lips tasted strongly of the strawberries you had been eating from the basket and your cherry lip gloss that you had applied to your lips earlier.
You kissed me back and we just laid there and smiled at each other until my parents came and got us from that exact spot. We went home that day and you and I made strawberry smoothies then escaped off to my room and spent the whole rest of the day watching 50 first dates.
I visited the spot we kissed at today because I wanted to remember what your lips felt like on mine. It's been so long that I've almost completely forgotten. I know that in time I will forget, but I want to keep that memory alive as long as I can.
I've even tried to find the brand of lip gloss you used that day so I could apply them to my own lips so I could apply them to my own, but you never did tell me what brand you used. And every cherry lip gloss I've applied taste nothing like yours. They all taste bitter while yours was sweet.
I don't think I'll ever find it. Maybe I should give up. And even though I know it's the best thing for me to give up, I still find myself with a box full of full cherry lip glosses that I'll never use again because they aren't yours.
Sincerely,
Lauren Jauregui
