My mother asked me if I think that my dad still loves her.
I nodded my head no.
I wanted to say yes,
But I couldn't.
I didn't.
She told me that she doesn't love him the way she used to.
Their love has faded.
I've watched my parents love fade since I was 6 years old.
They used to kiss each other every morning before I would walk to the bus stop.
But last week my mom slept with me in my bed,
She held onto me like I was him
And she cried herself to sleep.
It's not supposed to be like that.
Love isn't supposed to just fade away like your jeans
And your hair dye
And your lipstick.
Love isn't supposed to wither away like dead flowers.
Love is supposed to be constant.
Once you love someone that much,
You always love them no matter what.
Or so I thought.
Love is an interesting thing.
One day it's standing there at a concert wearing camo pants,
And she's standing there staring at love because she can't help herself,
She can't help that her eyes turn a brighter shade of green when she is looking at something green.
In this case, it was your green camo pants.
Her eyes got brighter that night,
And the next day his eyes saw hers in the high school hallway.
They were strangers,
Until one day they weren't.
And she fell for him,
Like leaves fall from trees
Like rain falls on Windows
She fell for him.
And he fell for her.
And they talked about how it was because she saw him standing there at that concert wearing camo pants,
Fate they said.
Meant to be, they said.
And they were happy.
Until one day they weren't.
Until one day it started to wither away.
Like dead flowers.
Love ate at her as she sat in the bathtub,
As tears fell from her eyes that were a lot less green
As tears fell from her eyes and dropped into the bath water.
Creating a pool of "I miss him"
"I still want him"
"We were supposed to be meant to be"
It's not supposed to be like that.
But it is.
7 months later:
It's 3:06 am.
I'm laying on his couch.
He who has a head full of dark curly hair
And a face full of freckles.
He is new, different.
And we didn't meet in a special way.
We didn't meet at a concert,
But we met.
And maybe that means something.
He tells me I'm smart,
That I'm outgoing.
He sees a side of me that most people do not see,
That the boy in the camo pants didn't see.
So maybe it's not about concerts,
Or fate.
Or meant to be.
Maybe it's that it just happens.
Maybe it's that you just meet someone one day,
And something happens.
And maybe the people we meet,
And the people that hurt us,
Lead us to the people who won't.
Who won't hurt us,
Who won't stop loving us.
It's 3:13 am.
I'm laying on his couch,
He's asleep.
I can hear his breathing,
In and out
In and out.
And I've always liked freckles.
And curly hair.
And boys that are left handed.
So I'll give him a try.
And hope that it doesn't wither away quite
yet.
When it comes down to it.
That's all we can really do is hope.
Hope that my parents might remember what it was like to love each other.
Hope that the boy in the camo pants is alright.
And hope that the boy with the freckles makes her happy.
Because her green eyes have been dull for quite some time,
And I think she deserves someone to make them brighter again.
