And then she’s finally gone…
Jeremy picked up his bag, in it a change of clothes, a few CDs and directions to 600 Gerban Lane. A house sat there, in the crumbling suburbs around Flint, Michigan, and in that house Jeremy imagined a girl, her hair wild and looming above her head, stalks of brown and ribbon and the slightest hint of a halo all swirling up there, casting shadows down over eyes that flickered emerald mottled brown. Those eyes once reflected his own starry gaze back all over him, infinitely mirroring the two in each others eyes. The girl in the house was Annie, and she had disappeared several months ago, leaving nothing behind but a host of unanswered questions and the uncertainty that comes with a lack of finality.
Jeremy had waited long enough though, wondering what had happened to her, if she would ever decide to come back. Today he was going to find her. 600 Gerban Lane, that’s where she was, or at least where she had lived when he was fortunate enough to have been blessed with her presence.
Love is a meager word, like a good song on the radio that gets overplayed, using it to describe the wealth of aching longing joyous springing feelings that bubble around a man’s soul when he sees and knows the feeling in question is akin to vacationing on the moon and staying in your rocket the entire time. She was elegance dripping out of her patched up pants, belled and liquid all over the floor below her, covering feet that never wore shoes and sweeping away life’s concerns as they fell off of her shoulders and into her path. Honey wrapped sticky around her skin, thin and frail and slightly hairy and dancing out of any sort of clothing that tried to control it, he remembered how she would sit on the counter, sipping up tea, careful not to drink the last bit until the end, only she could see which one that was, and she tilted her cup and looked aroundï¿½dodging, evadingï¿½like a child with a bowl of Lucky Charms, saving all of the marshmallows until the end. How she would smile from behind a cigarette, the blue wisps of smoke hesitant to leave her lungs, desperately grasping to her lips as it made its way whistling between her teeth until falling out to disperse into the average, lesser, common air.
Jeremy was going to prove to her that whatever it was, they were better than it. He might as well have been wearing a cape or a suit of silver armor, for all of his lofty intentions and diluted fairy tale aspirations. He pulled his bag through the door and in turn the door shut behind it. As he made his way down the walk, under the shade of his house, past the mailbox…he had mail. At first he thought to just ignore it, but with a quick turn and a flick of his wrist the pile of bills and flyers and coupons was in his hand. He shuffled through them quickly, noticing one in particular in which his address had been hand written, the return address reading 600 Gerban Lane. He ripped apart the frail envelope and opened the letter, and just as his face was nearing a smile it stopped, uncertain as of what to do…
“I’m sorry that I’ve just disappeared…I’ve come to Florida to bask in the sun with my father. He’s helping me sort through some things. I’ll be here until the end of February.
When I get back, I’m traveling to South America for a month. I’ll be living with a family, and helping them on their farm. I’m nervous, cause I don’t speak any Spanish what so ever. Either way, I’m sure its gonna be an amazing experience.
I’ll talk to you soon
All my love-”
An event that can simultaneously make you so happy for someone else and so sick for your own stomach…moments like these are the syllables of the very definitions of our lives.
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