It was your birthday, your 12th one. You had called a few minutes ago, and as I answered the phone, I looked out the window out towards your house. There you were, on the phone, leaning on the porch talking to me. My heart skipped a beat and for the 5,908th time, I stuck my hand out my window and told you to look my way. I saw a smile spread on your face and wave back at me as you said "I'll be right there to show you my birthday gifts, Yari!"
I hung up but kept my eyes on you, waiting for the routine to unfold. Our days together had started since I could remember. Our parents had been best friends growing up, so it was normal for us to grow up together...not to mention you were my boy next door...or down the road. You get the point. So there you were, hopping on your bike and tucking something in your pocket before speeding down the hill from your house and onto the road to mine. Pedaling fast, as if you knew I almost couldn't breathe until you were spending time with me. My best friend. The first crush. Our first love. Love? At that age? We used to hold hands since we were 5, remember? You'd tell everyone I was your girlfriend and I'd blush into a pile of nervous giggles. Our folks used to joke about when we eventually got married. Except it wasn't really a joke. Everyone assumed we would. I digress.
You threw your bike on the lawn and skipped inside my house, like you had all your life, giving me a quick peck on the cheek. My heart thudded but I acted cool, calm, not even amused. We went to my room and you pulled my boom box to the bed, kicking your flip flops off and laying next to me as we shared a pillow. "Look at what my grandma bought me!", you whispered as you pulled out a new cassette. The cover art was red with a shell in the middle and the words "Re" on there too. I squinted and saw that it was Cafe Tacuba, after which I half shrieked in excitement as we popped it in. It was magic. It was loud. It was foreign and alive. It made everything seem colorful. I loved it. I loved you. Us.
You said your favorite was "Ingrata"...But I loved "Las Flores", mostly because that's when you reached for my hand and intertwined your fingers with mine brushing my thumb with yours as we stared at the ceiling. You then turned sideways to face me, I did the same. I thought maybe this would be my first kiss. At 11, I thought I was long overdue for mine...stupid kid. You showed me your hand and you had this new, shiny silver ring with coral designs on it. Little red and blue waves and a kokopelli figure in the middle of a circle. I thought it was the most awesome thing I had ever seen. You said your folks got it for your birthday too, that you had wanted it for a while every time you visited the local surf shop. Did your folks know the kokopelli was a fertility deity? Did you? I did, but I didn't say anything...no one likes a know it all.
I tried it on, and it was too big on all my fingers, except my thumb. It looked perfect on my thumb...so I sighed and twirled it a few times and pulled it off to give it back. I looked up and you were looking at me smiling and leaned over, kissing the tip of my nose. I'm pretty sure I died a few dozen times all over, but remained the cool rock on the outside. Then, as simply as you would give a friend a piece of gum, you said "Keep it. It'll fit on your ring finger when you're older. You're my girl, already." I gave you the tightest hug I've ever given anyone in my life, I believe...and then we went to play Nintendo at your house. The days went on as usual. Life went on as usual.
It's been fifteen years, now in May, since you gave me your ring. I've moved countless times and those I've loved are countless more. This morning I was cleaning out my room out of every memory I ever had of my childhood. Pictures, toys, everything I've kept for years. I opened my jewelry box, and there it was. Your ring. I slipped it on my ring finger, and it fit. I kept it. Because some things are always good to remember.
Happy Birthday, Alex.
I hung up but kept my eyes on you, waiting for the routine to unfold. Our days together had started since I could remember. Our parents had been best friends growing up, so it was normal for us to grow up together...not to mention you were my boy next door...or down the road. You get the point. So there you were, hopping on your bike and tucking something in your pocket before speeding down the hill from your house and onto the road to mine. Pedaling fast, as if you knew I almost couldn't breathe until you were spending time with me. My best friend. The first crush. Our first love. Love? At that age? We used to hold hands since we were 5, remember? You'd tell everyone I was your girlfriend and I'd blush into a pile of nervous giggles. Our folks used to joke about when we eventually got married. Except it wasn't really a joke. Everyone assumed we would. I digress.
You threw your bike on the lawn and skipped inside my house, like you had all your life, giving me a quick peck on the cheek. My heart thudded but I acted cool, calm, not even amused. We went to my room and you pulled my boom box to the bed, kicking your flip flops off and laying next to me as we shared a pillow. "Look at what my grandma bought me!", you whispered as you pulled out a new cassette. The cover art was red with a shell in the middle and the words "Re" on there too. I squinted and saw that it was Cafe Tacuba, after which I half shrieked in excitement as we popped it in. It was magic. It was loud. It was foreign and alive. It made everything seem colorful. I loved it. I loved you. Us.
You said your favorite was "Ingrata"...But I loved "Las Flores", mostly because that's when you reached for my hand and intertwined your fingers with mine brushing my thumb with yours as we stared at the ceiling. You then turned sideways to face me, I did the same. I thought maybe this would be my first kiss. At 11, I thought I was long overdue for mine...stupid kid. You showed me your hand and you had this new, shiny silver ring with coral designs on it. Little red and blue waves and a kokopelli figure in the middle of a circle. I thought it was the most awesome thing I had ever seen. You said your folks got it for your birthday too, that you had wanted it for a while every time you visited the local surf shop. Did your folks know the kokopelli was a fertility deity? Did you? I did, but I didn't say anything...no one likes a know it all.
I tried it on, and it was too big on all my fingers, except my thumb. It looked perfect on my thumb...so I sighed and twirled it a few times and pulled it off to give it back. I looked up and you were looking at me smiling and leaned over, kissing the tip of my nose. I'm pretty sure I died a few dozen times all over, but remained the cool rock on the outside. Then, as simply as you would give a friend a piece of gum, you said "Keep it. It'll fit on your ring finger when you're older. You're my girl, already." I gave you the tightest hug I've ever given anyone in my life, I believe...and then we went to play Nintendo at your house. The days went on as usual. Life went on as usual.
It's been fifteen years, now in May, since you gave me your ring. I've moved countless times and those I've loved are countless more. This morning I was cleaning out my room out of every memory I ever had of my childhood. Pictures, toys, everything I've kept for years. I opened my jewelry box, and there it was. Your ring. I slipped it on my ring finger, and it fit. I kept it. Because some things are always good to remember.
Happy Birthday, Alex.
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