Its like after the storm. Its been cold, wet, sometimes ugly. Sometimes you grow so close to people that even after years they don’t fade. Their walking away didn’t hurt, till you felt them reappear year after year, even though they were gone.
I am not talking about a lover. I am talking about friends. Not one face – fated to meet me from the crowd of many. Giggling three girls in the back of a sunny yellow car, while the meaning was lost with growing up.
I miss you all.