Letters For You

Cleaning

Resolutions Sunday, January 14th, 2018

By Emily Davis

Let me tell you that my moving on resolution is off to a rough start. I went over to your parents' place yesterday and your mom wanted to clean some stuff from your room. She asked me if I wanted anything. I said I had everything I wanted, so we started. Every single object was a battle. "But he loved that lamp," "That was his favorite soccer ball," and so on. I ended up asking her if she really wanted to do this. She said yes but that she couldn't do it. So, Ben and I cleaned your room with some help from your sister. Rest assured, they don't plan to have a painting studio or a yoga room in your bedroom. Your bed, your drawers and your books and CD collection are staying. We threw away your old binders filled with your school work or the old notepads you scribbled on when you were bored. We put your clothes and your soccer shoes in a box and dropped it at an organisation. Don't worry, your dad had already framed your uniform. I believe it's in his office. We only left your comforter on your bed. The sheets were washed, folded, and stored in your wardrobe. Your room is still your room with just less stuff in it.

I kept one thing. I don't know when you had planned to give it to me, but I have it now. Maybe it was for graduation, or for our move to Stanford. Maybe you would have given it to me on our anniversary or on my birthday. I'll never know. But it's beautiful so, thank you. I didn't even know you had so many pictures of me, of us. You lied when you said you weren't a good writer. The captions you wrote beside the pictures are amazing. I know you didn't steal them from the internet because I googled a couple of them. I'm sorry for doubting you. I relived so many memories when I flipped through the pages. The time we went to the beach and you got stung by a jellyfish you thought was dead. We never really knew what had happened but your foot was so swollen it was bigger than my face. We even have a picture to prove it. Pictures of me in a restaurant, of me sitting on your couch eating butter less popcorn, of us at prom, of us after our first time. There were countless pictures of me not looking at the camera mixed with selfies of us. The album is now on my desk, opened at my favorite page. It shows a picture of us your mother took on a trip to Florida one summer. The way your eyes are locked on me and the softness in them is what attracted me to this picture. You can feel the love we had for one another through the paper. We didn't do anything special that day. Nothing out of the ordinary. That's why it's my favorite. It represents our relationship well. Finding the joy in everything. Being mesmerized by the smallest thing.  Making everyday special, even if we just spent the day watching movies with flavorless popcorn.

So. I cried all night yesterday and a little this morning when I caught a glimpse at that picture. I'm fine now. I went running. Yep, you read right. I. Went. Running. Me. You used to try and persuade me to come with you but I always declined. It's another of my resolution. Running isn't working out. New me, remember? You were right, running helps clear your head. Instead of spending the day in bed, thinking about you, imagining you gluing pictures and seeing you scratch your head while you were looking for something to write, I went running and, after, I did all my homework. I was productive. I think it's a step in the right direction.

When I am done with this letter, I am driving to my house to clean my old room too. I still have my high school stuff everywhere. Pictures of us are hanging on the walls and I want to grab the book I was reading that night before going to bed. I never finished it. In a way, I held that book responsible for your death. Or for not dying with you. I stayed home because I wanted to keep reading it. I'm going to finish it now. Or I'll start over since it's been over a year and a half since I started it. I don't remember the story, but if I preferred that book over going to a party with you, it must have been really good. If my mother didn't move it, it should still be on my nightstand beside the picture of us at our Junior year prom. I can picture you in your navy-blue suit, with your grey bow tie over your white button-up shirt. I can picture my silver dress with my hair up in a high ponytail. We looked cute as hell. I'll probably grab the frame and bring it here. I'll bring everything because I don't know if I'll be back before the big move.

Ben and I got an apartment close to the university. We're moving in with Simon and Maggie who are still dating and as in love as ever. You were so proud when you managed to get these two to go out together. We all hate our dorms so we figured that, together, we could afford an apartment. In three weeks, I'll have my own room again. I'll sleep in a double bed again. It'll be good, I can feel it. This move is the first thing I am really excited about since you. Another step in the right direction. It's nothing like our apartment in California but it's enough.

Enough to start fresh.

Wish me luck.

Even if you know that I don't need it.