Snow castles and frisbee in the dark
I didn’t like her, didn’t like the direct way she spoke, without equivocation. She reminded me of my mother. She didn’t know what it felt like to be wrong. I was like my father, sure only in the small realm of things for which I was expert and always willing to question.
The first thing we did together was go to a football game. The team was terrible, it was freezing cold, and we were too young to drink. We huddled together for warmth, laughing the whole time. We came home and drank cup after cup of tea in her room.
She started dating someone else, but it didn’t matter. We were inseparable, a package deal. He picked me up and ran with me over his shoulder as I screamed. We were young, a litter of baby tigers learning to fight.
That winter we built snow castles in the yard and played frisbee in the dark. They called the cops on us at least once.
We didn’t need sleep. We watched the sunrise from the top of the ridge and stayed up talking in the hall through the night. I was in love with everything, or maybe just with freedom. I didn’t look for anything else.