“Skid Row”, ditching and making sure I had at least $4.00 Friday night. I look back fondly on four finger bags and .50 cent singles; going to school broke, coming back with nickels, pennies, quarters, dimes and dollars. All fruit of that days work.
Now, I vaguely recall Senior Prom, never saw a Homecoming half-time show, or care that I never really made it to the Senior Talent show when I was in the 11th grade. But I do remember you. You passed with me into adulthood, when in fact we had really only turned 18 together, still a surprisingly loooooooooong way from being adults.
Friday night Star Trek, you, “the kids” and me. Rapt silence until the final credits. Big plans formed of little experience, you the ballerina me the campus jock. Little did I know how fleeting those moments would be. Less known was how soon I’d be here… remembering you, wondering about you, and me, or what might be…