Rachelle

We have a history.  I think that's worth something.

I know you never liked me that first summer.  I was fifteen and obnoxious.  You were sixteen and insecure.  A good mix, I know.  We slept in that tent, rode in the back of pick-ups, napped in the afternoon sun.  We listened to a lot of Rebecca St. James.  I was on the right, you were in the middle, the glue was over there on the left.  We were a trio, so obviously meant to be thrown together.  Funny how we were opposites despite the circumstances

I never understood.  I was young.  Of course I knew everything.  I want you to know I still cared.

You've gone a little skate punk and stayed a little preppy.  I've gone a little hippi and stayed a little tomboy.  Are we a study in contrasts?  Still each on those opposing and identical journeys to figure out where we fit.

I remember working it out.  What we couldn't do face to face we said over e-mail.  Yeah, you were in Virginia and love, with so much discovery left.  I remember crying to you on my couch as I told you part of my past.  I never knew why I showed you that hidden vulnerable side of myself.

Boys, travel, school.  We've both grown through a lot.  You've become a beautiful woman.  Much different then anyone thought.  An artist, athlete, thinker and adventuress.

We've never been best friends.  I know we never will be.  I just want to thank-you for the effort.  The fact that, after it all, we can still sleep in a tent.  Maybe I'll be on the right and you'll be in the middle.  We can talk about how it doesn't make sense.  We listen to that mix c.d. and drive with the windows down.  You've taught me a lot with your searing honesty and occasional disdain.  Things your patience and frustration needed me to know.  I hope I've been a little bit worth it.

Photo source: Janne-landet on Deviant Art