All these Years

I stood under that tree for a moment –
the one we used to take shelter under when it rained,
the one that used to be all shades of crimson at once during autumn,
and looked around for a moment.

That park we used to run around in,
the street in front of my house
where we both rode our first bikes,
the lonely bus rides;
with you in the back with your friends and me in the front with my earphones on.

Remember all those summers?
Back in the days when we’d chase the ice-cream cart all the way around town,
spend the drowsy afternoons under the trees you’d once told me were actually monsters;
and I believed you.

Pillowfights in my bedroom,
fistfights at birthday parties,
football in pouring rain,

Until we grew up.
And apart.

You burned through high school
drinking cheap beer in alleyways and riding away through the night.

I slipped away too,
lost somewhere in the chaos within.
It’s ironic, how often
the life of the party is the one
stumbling all the way home;
mascara-streaked and drunk.

But here we are now.
All these years later.

The things we learned.
The times we had.
The memories, after all.

You walk up to me in the pouring rain
as a yellow school bus passes us by,
a lifetime away –

‘Hey.’