Some memories ….

An NSOP fling gone wrong, you beckoned me. I pushed away towards uncharted territory, a hazy abyss of introductions and à propos facts about hometowns and non-sequiturs. You weren’t supposed to rope me in so soon. Gold Marlboro 100s and combat boots, we were the queens of the city. I guided you through the crowds on Gay Street. In the lecture hall, we held hands during the presentations about PCHS and the Title XI Office. Reinvention, imposter syndrome, 90-degree weather, picnics on the steps. We faced a future of late nights studying and empty subway stations in the early morning hours, together. The memories are permanently etched on my ribcage close to my heart. An NSOP fling; you helped me hang my tapestry and showed me the polluted skies as we laid atop Sulz tower. 

When classes came around, I got lost in the routine and began begging for endless days. The constraint of time was a bothersome shadow. You distracted me—I had to take some moments away. I discovered the library, Keurigs, relaxation, concentration. It was time to return, to rekindle the flames from move-in day. But it was too late. You had found all the right people, all the right places, all the right adventures. All without me. 

Now I sit, writing this while my book slides down the slanted table. It’s cuffing season, the leaves crinkle beneath my boots, I drown in the humid and chilled air. Atmospheric melancholia. I miss the dry heat, the winding roads to the barren mountains, the late nights serving soft-serve ice cream at Dairy Queen. You remind me of opportunity, of the hope for something more. You were well versed in benevolence, with a desire to change the world, and I wanted to be your disciple. Regret, longing for a history that never was. Now, I sit here writing of unrequited love, a distant memory from the first week of freshman year. An NSOP fling gone wrong…I am the Yearner of Lerner Hall. 

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