Before university forced us to grow up, Doug and I had a lovely summer.
We would take his Subaru to our local Chapters to burn ourselves with scalding Starbucks coffee and drift through the stacks of books. Sometimes we'd listen to books on tape in the car, silent except for the sounds of our brains turning the images over, committing them to memory.
When we'd return with those lovely taupe and red plastic bags full of promise, we'd spend hours sitting in the car, or on the curb in front of his house, just talking. . . about books, about love, about writing, about our lives now, and what they'll be like in the future.
One August evening we rolled the car out of the driveway well past midnight, and headed to a local coffee shop for drinks and Nanaimo bars (a shared passion :) As we rolled quietly back onto our sleeping street it began to drizzle. We got out of the car and sat on the curb, under a tree in the rain and talked till four a.m. . .
Doug is coming home from university next week, and he made me promise that we would talk again soon. Moments like these are the ones I treasure. He's a sweet boy. I love him to bits and he'll always be in my heart. . . even if he's not always right across the street. |
