“This friendship will self-destruct when you open that box,” Katie says as she hands me a box and waits for a response. I wonder what this means, what is so important in this little box. Do I dare open it? I don’t want to lose her as a friend. We’ve been through a lot together: medical crises, boyfriends, girlfriends, her parent’s divorce. I don’t want any of that to change. It’s such a small box; how could something so small have such a huge impact?
Oh… oh, wow. Is she? Does she…? Wait a minute. I need to sit down for this. She’s never… I’ve never said… Where is this coming from? I must have been blind this whole time. The whole time? I’ve known her for the past fifteen years and not once has this come up. Well, maybe that one night in summer camp when we were talking at the lake. But not since. We were so young then. The sun had just set over the lake, Katie confided her parent’s were in the midst of splitting up. She was sure her future was bleak. What was the point of love if it just ended one day? I told her that love is complicated, but true love is forever. She kissed me and I never thought of it again.
Now here I stand with a box. Oh dear, I want to slowly pull on the ribbon. But I also want to throw this box far away as possible. What did she put in here? Maybe it’s just a keepsake. She always wanted to make a time capsule for us look back on when we are older, when we have had our own adventures and want to look back on how far we’ve come. She’s wanted to backpack across South America and volunteer in orphanages. Maybe this is her goodbye and she’s finally taking that trip. Well, good for her.
I pull on one strand of ribbon, look up at Katie, and meet her eyes. She’s been patiently waiting. I hate to keep her waiting. She must be in as much suspense as I am awaiting my reaction.
“Katie, I don’t know what this is all about but trust me, our friendship will not be destroyed,” I reassure her. She half smiles as I proceed with the ribbon.
If I’m honest, and this is her proposing – no matter how forward it is, I can’t think of anyone better to grow old with. Katie is the first person I think of when things go right, or terribly wrong. Her kindness and laughter have helped to heal the deepest wounds. She’s my rock. She was there for me when Cassie left after five years. Cassie and I were heading nowhere, she wanted marriage but something between us was off. And Katie, well she knows I will drop everything at a moment’s notice for her. Maybe that’s also why Cassie left. She felt as if she couldn’t compete with our friendship. I don’t blame her, but it’s not something to let go of so easily when you’ve been friends for so long.
“Jack,” she begins, “do you remember when my parent’s split and my mom gave me her wedding ring? Well, I found it while packing up my apartment and I thought you should have it.”
“I don’t understand,” I tell her. “Why would you want me to have it? And packing your apartment? Where are you going?”
She explains that she has been assigned to a task force in Colombia. “They asked me to head up the training program for delivering influenza vaccinations. They are facing a major influx of Venezuelan migrants and they need our help. I want my mom’s ring to be kept safe for when I return.”
“Absolutely, you can trust me but have you talked to your mom about this? You should give it to her.”
“I’ve tried but she doesn’t want to see that ring ever again. It’ll trigger too many bad memories of what she’s lost. Anyway, I should be back in six months.”
“Six months?! Katie, are you sure about this? I mean, it’s dangerous down there.”
“It’ll be fine! My company is scheduling to have security set up around our camp and besides, now all my years of learning Spanish will finally pay off.”
Her infectious grin makes it hard to stay mad at her. I tuck the box into my pocket and throw my arms around her, inhaling all of what I almost had, all of what I’ll miss.
A writer yearns to tell their story, any story, that will stand the test of time full of hardships conquered and inspire generations with hope.
The story shall feel whimsical, not so much with fairies dancing but that there is a happy ending. The story shall have brevity, not so much as a long weathered tale but one that details just enough.
The story shall be one that others dream of and inspire even the darkest ones with hope.
The depth of emotion shall brighten the skies. The cutting edge shall be sharp as a fresh-cut sword. Giving what many have lacked. Inspiring strength to withstand.
Readers everywhere want a story, any story, because our story is yearning for hope.
Spinning the same song that connected us gets harder to hear.
Each verse cuts deeper into what never was, what could have been; the longing to be near.
With my fingertips crossing your beard, your fingers grazing my thighs, those longing sleepless nights I’ve waited to be alongside the one that knew the depth of my emotions, facing eye to eye.
Sometimes it’s a choice song so I don’t forget the closeness of someone far away.
Sometimes it’s a random appearance, stops me in my tracks; nothing else could stand in its way.
You set the scene, describe it so perfectly; what we’ll do what I’ll wear where we’ll go from the first moments of excitement to the height of pure ecstasy
But love, it’s a trembling sensation that leaves me wanting; wanting to lay with you, to feel your warmth next to me
The cool breeze from the window attempts to ease the burning between us but fails as we don’t let up
And my mind wanders from that scene to thinking what all these years between us could have been, all that we could have done but I guess it’s not that bad for our love is still just as strong
One by one counting memories:
An old photograph of us at the beach,
A sweater that won’t rid itself of your scent,
Books and CDs that you lent,
I’ve packed them away
They won’t see another day
I’ve packed the boxes,
Made the plans,
The rooms are empty
But I am motionless
Is it that familiar look?
Is it that morning glow
That paints itself through that morning window?
No, it’s these damn memories that aren’t letting go
The oak tree Unwavering and sturdy Tells us how to be: Don’t break so easily In the slightest change of wind
Climbing back through my childhood bedroom window Landing on shards of broken glass Crimson oozes slowly As I pray each stab is its last So much has shaken me since my first landing Each step taken cuts deeper than the beginning
Looking back That oak tree mocks me He speaks, “Steady now for like the days of an oak tree shall the days of our people be. He has sent me here to mend the brokenhearted; To shine a light during the mourning. Remember from where you have fallen And you shall return to that which bears fruit. Listen to the ways of the wind: Rejoice for His love has been given.”
He says, “you’ve been a great lover, opened up doors for me, been there when I needed you but I’m going to leave you, woman for I know you could do better than me” He picks up his suitcase, then he’s running out the door
And that’s the way it is that’s the way it’ll always be lovers in and out the revolving door
She says, “I’m going to leave this town so much has been given and I’m grateful for what’s been but I need to get going for I know I could do better” She packs her things, then she’s running out the door
And that’s the way it is that’s the way it’ll always be lovers in and out the revolving door
There’s always a path to something better there’s always something else that will find you all the sweet things that you dream she sends a postcard to check in, say where she’s been but he doesn’t look back, throws all those lost loves into his sack
And that’s the way it is that’s the way it’ll always be lovers who dream and lovers who leave
Coffee Shop Sessions 
