If You Love Me

If You Love Me

if you love me

be the one to

snare the sun

if you love me

be the voice to

sing the sweetness

of

sustained devotions

themed declarations

if you love me

be the hand to

touch my heart

if you love me

be the one to

trace the distance

of

the writing of your body

the writing of my body

if you love me

be the single face

that remains still

be the only one

to restore my faith

in a dark world

if you love me

if you love me

tell me so

**

Growing up the fat kid, clothes were always extra special to me because rarely was it I was allowed to buy new things and when something really fabulous fit I didn’t feel like the fat kid.  Case in point, my pink jeans I bought as part of my tiny 6^th grade wardrobe.  This school year was particularly important for a few reasons, the first being they were placing our grade for that one year in the junior high building so that meant going to school as an elementary student with all the cool intimidating junior high kids including the grade 9s (who looked like giants to me back then and scared my socks off) and the second reason was, obviously, a boy.  My dear friend Kenny and I, in the last part of summer leading up to the first days of school at Eastern Passage Junior High started spending a fair amount of time together.  There were days when we’d be sitting out on the front walk way, batting eyes at one another and laughing at everything that was said, complete innocence of the time and my sister would poke her head out the door and whistle or tease us.  He’d retort by calling her a ‘faggot’ because he was embarrassed by being heckled but the one day she asked him if he knew what a faggot was (and he didn’t) he threw up her middle finger and blushed. 

Kenny was a sweet boy and at that time in my life I was sure he’d be the boy I’d grow up and marry.  So as you can imagine, I certainly wasn’t feeling like the fat kid but rather someone who felt happy and wanted to dress as such.  In my school clothes shopping, such as it was, I bought myself two pairs of jeans.  One pair were blue and black checkered and other were pink.  I was quite excited and for the first few days of school I planned my outfits very carefully.  The first day of school I wore the checkered jeans and my fancy white shirt.  The second I stepped onto the bus that morning of the first day, Kenny said, “I like your outfit.”  I’m pretty sure my feet didn’t hit the ground all day.  The day was only made better by the fact that Kenny’s desk was right beside mine, just as it had been for 4^th and 5^th grade.  Things were looking up.

I don’t remember what I wore to school on the second day but on our third day of school I selected my pink jeans.  I adored them and they made me feel like a million bucks.  I had no idea that the day would end in tragedy.  To make a long story short, while we were all waiting for the school bus to go to school, there was an accident.  I didn’t see it because it was down the road a stretch but I sure as hell saw the ambulance and police cars speed by and toward the general area where all of my friends were at their bus stops.  That morning, while waiting for the school bus, my friend Kenny with the long dark eyelashes and the most beautiful smile was struck by a car and killed.  I didn’t know any details about what happened until we were seated in our classrooms and announcements started.  I took full notice that he wasn’t in his seat but the rumor on the bus was that his sister had been hurt so it made sense for him not to be there.  Truth was, it was actually Kenny.  I will never forget the feeling when our principal delivered the news over the intercom.  I felt the world slow down and start to tilt.  At that age I had no idea what I was feeling but I bolted up from my seat and ran to the bathroom because I felt like I was going to be sick.  It was a tough days of heavy emotion that at my age, couldn’t truly understand.

At the end of the school day I was anxious to get home to my mother to tell her about my friend.  The bus dropped me off at my usual spot and I just started running, running so fast and hard my heart might explode.  Instead, I fell.  On the gravel.  I ripped a large irreparable hole in the right knee of my pink jeans rushing home to the comfort of my family.  It was the first and only day I wore my pink jeans.

I ran to the mall yesterday on my way home from work.  The Body Shop had a 50% off sale on all of their make-up and I was desperate for a new All in one Face Base.  I also treated myself to a new blush and a new kabuki brush for loose powder.  Body Shop make-up brushes are dreamy soft and since they are fairly pricey I thought I’d spring for one while the sale was on.  On my way out of the mall I did my usual walk-through at Winners.  I haven’t been feeling like buying new clothes lately but I strolled by the racks anyway.  There, on the rack, hung a pair of petite hot pink jeans.  In MY size.  I grabbed them and proceeded straight to the dressing room.  And, guess what?  They fit like a glove.  I have wanted another pair of pink jeans since the 6^th grade and yesterday I made it happen.  I wear them with happiness and I have to tell you, the bright cheerful pink adds a bit of a spring to my step (no pun intended).  They make me feel like a million bucks and they buoy my spirit and they also make me think fondly of my friend whose bright shiny smile beams from an oval picture frame in my writing room and the same smile attached to my keys so that he’s with me wherever I go.

In writing news, I’m still plugging away at ‘Mute’.  Several things became clear to me yesterday on the drive home.  I just need to formulate the words and make sure I have the sequence of events that the characters have told me about in the proper order.  See, the end of the story was made known to me before any other part so it’s been hard for me to focus.  What a fun challenge they have become.  So, watch this space.

Happy sunny Spring Thursday!

In propinquity,

Nic