We've been friends for a long time. A very long time. I somehow remember the time we first met as I am walking to the grocery store to pick up some milk (you know Diana, she's always drinking that stuff. God she's going to be a giant when she gets older). Anyways, the sun's out and everything seems fine. But it's not because what people don't know is that this town is missing something; you.
That's not the point, goodness, I always seem to get ahead of myself. I am forced to take my bike because Mom's getting the oil checked on the car. Before you even think it, yes, we still only have one car. And I know I told you a month before you left "Oh, I'm saving up money so I can get a car in a year."
Well you see, my original plans fell through, so now I'm car-less. I do miss me dragging you to places around town because you were my only ride. If I were to be honest, I never actually had to go to those places, I just wanted to see that face that you always use. You'd crinkle your nose and raise your eyebrows and in your usual low voice, you'd ask, "Why the hell are we here?"
Well now you know the truth, but please don't use it against me.
As usual, the sidewalks are empty because I swear to god, I'm the only seventeen-year-old girl who still uses a bike. I see Mrs. Downey waving at me, and of course I wave back. That old lady always did love you.
I'm skipping ahead because I'm being excessively rambly today.
So, I'm at the store, in the dairy aisle, looking for reduced fat milk, you know, minding my own business and stuff, when all of a sudden a girl runs into me. At first, I'm royally pissed because how the heck can someone just run into someone who's carefully looking at the large milk selection.
I wished you were there so you could calm me down.
But then, I notice she's only a little girl, probably about five or six years old (i'm not the best at ages) and I soften up. I've always loved kids and you know that. She stares at me with wide eyes before running off. I turn around, following her with my eyes. I don't have my contacts on today, so everything's kind of a blur, but it doesn't matter, because I know exactly where she's going.
I follow her, but not in the stalkerish way, no. She leads me to a cage thing. it's black, and dare I not forget, it's hanging from the ceiling. I can't help but smile, because just looking at it brings back so much memories.
do you remember how we met? You probably don't seeing as we've had so many memories together, everything's just so jumbled up.
Whatever, I'll tell you anyways, because that's part of my story. i remember the first day we met, all because of a ceiling cage.
It is a wednesday, of course I don't remember the exact date or time because that would be just plain creepy. All I know is that it is morning and mom decides to drag me to the grocery store because dad wanted more chips.
I miss dad, I really do.
The cold air from that air conditioner at the very top of the automatic doors hit me as I walk inside. i still find it stupid how they put that up there, just so you know. Mom wants me to choose a bag of chips, except she tells me to not choose the salt vinegar one. That completely brings down my childish mood. You know how much I love those chips, but Dad doesn't.
I pout at my mom and stalk away. I am not sure where the chips are, to be honest, so I roam the aisles, looking for any sign of lays barbecue chips. I'm in aisle ten whereIi see it. The ceiling cage. It's filled with balloons, and I wonder why it's up there. The strings of the balloons are just out of my reach, and I'm frustrated. I see a really pretty Princess Belle balloon and I know I have to have it. I jump up my fingers barely touching the pink string, but my fingers can't grasp it.
And then you show up, smirking. I roll my eyes because you look so stupid.
I just want to point out now that you did look like an idiot, because what six-year-old smirks?
You watch me struggle but you don't help. I hate people like that, so I build up the confidence snap at you.
I don't exactly remember what I said, but it's something along the line of:
"Hey idiot, wipe that grin off your face. I'd like to see you try."
Of course, I didn't say that as I was young and I thought that idiot was a bad word.
You try to grab it, but you are shorter than me (don't deny it, you are). This time it's my turn to smirk. you turn to me and you say:
"Stop laughing."
But then we are both laughing.
I miss you, and I hope you miss me.
Because I really miss you.
i'll be honest and say that i was extremely lazy to edit this.
i really don't know what i'm gonna do with vanilla mornings because i haven't touched that since march.
