Dear First Love (Again),

I heard your voice for the first time in a year today.

It was harder than you might imagine. I don’t expect you to understand.

I cried.

My best friend was sitting on my floor and staring blankly at her reflection in the mirror as I sobbed. I wept. You said those words…the words that told us you were sad. I hadn’t known. I hadn’t known. I don’t know this about you. I don’t know you anymore.

I buried my face in my hands as you played in the background. It was an old video. You were blurring my vision. Your voice rattled my bones.

Muffled in my skin I said, “I miss my friend. I miss my friend.”

I wonder if all your new friends know that when you speak you recycle the words spoken to me in a whisper. Somewhere in the past you are laughing in the receiver; you are looking forward to tomorrow.

I see you young. I see you smiling and nervous and fiddling with the strap on your shoulder. I see you grimace at me whenever there’s a mistake. I smiled at you to reassure your potential. I always smiled for you.

I know you’re probably happier than what you were. I don’t know. You won’t speak to me. I hope you have a reason not to. I really miss our talks. I miss your stupid laugh; a guttural, but shrill laugh. I miss your hugs. I miss the gap you used to have in your teeth.

We were babies.

My best friend continued to watch me as I wept. I rubbed my eyes. I raised my head. Then I tried to smile. But it didn’t work.

The rain cried, too. It’s pouring here in Indiana, by the way. Just like it used to.

Oh, I wept, my friend.

Your first, 
The Girl Back Home