the guez

     I was in my room, trying to work. Kat was in hers, painting it the much debated shade of “ballet white.” Suddenly there was a shout and a crash, and then her door opened and she peered her head around the corner.      “Whelp,” she said, “I can now cross off my list stepping-into-a-bucket-of-paint-with-my-bare-foot.”      "Awww,” I leaned back in my chair. “It’s your bucket list!”

They say you should have a life that is full of good stories. And I think, so far, I’ve had a great many stories in mine. At night some times, I lie in bed and remember one until I fall asleep. Like that time we shot in Hilton Head and went down to the beach before sleeping. We waded out by the moon water, and I said, if you had told me a year ago that I’d be here tonight, I would have laughed at you. And then you said, if you had told me a month ago… Other nights I lie in bed and remember stories that haven’t happened yet. Like the one where you show up in my city and say, I’ve missed you.