Man it is
just…words can't describe it. And
it gets to be late in the afternoon, and the sun's setting, and he
punches some buttons on the stereo and brings some really cool Sunday
afternoon music on. Some
Dave Matthews, some Jonatha Brooke.
And we watch the afternoon light through the windows, and I
snuggle in his arms.
miracles of miracles, he starts talking.
I don't even prompt him. He
talks about how when he was a senior in high school.
It was tradition for the incoming senior class to paint the
senior wall the week before school.
So it was about twenty of them that had to do it, and they were
all really good friends, and the faculty advisor supervising them had
some sort of family emergency and left early.
So they took a break long enough to get a cooler full of beer and
a tape deck. And if this
was some kind of movie, there'd be some sort of tragic ending, like a
drunk football player takes a header off the side, or some math geek
pukes on somebody, or somebody else gets fondled when she doesn't wanna
be, but it wasn't like that.
all got buzzed, finished painting the wall, and had the best
time ever. Nobody
got hurt. Nobody got caught. Everybody
had a blast. Ethan
says it's pretty vivid: the memory of them up on the roof, with
the sun setting. They're
all finished painting and just dancing around.
"It was like the last time for us to cut loose and
be free, before we became seniors and had to deal with the
then he stops talking. And
for once, it's perfect. Because
he took me to where he was, or where he was remembering. With words. Painted
the picture, and I can feel how happy he was.
It's the perfect day.