I’ll Stand By You
I lost my snack. Gave up too much. Green carpet and orange fabric and plywood, witness to my deflowering.
I trod across the path of my kindergarten mortification once again. When she graduated from high school. I was a junior marshall. An observer to the turning of the tassel. I saw her pass ahead of me into adulthood.
I don’t have many life-long friends. Paltry kindergarten connections.
Leigh Anne is maybe the only one. A person who speaks my shorthand, a code language taught by a life lived in parallel. Forty years of existence.
Perhaps she knows me better than anyone.
And she’s joining me on the Natchez Trace.
I. Can’t. Wait.