Sorting memories
I've let you go, but the memories remain like the smell after the rain. In every bad thing, there's something good to be found. I remember the first time you met my parents, when I drove that angry old Jeep out to South Dakota and we drove through the Badlands. It was so hot my rearview mirror melted right off the windshield. We didn't have any reason to look back, though, did we? You would sneak into my room and sleep on the floor next to me just to be close. We weren't married so we couldn't sleep together, but you couldn't help yourself. There are so many memories; I'm sorting them now. Some are good and some are bad, but they're all us. We made them, for better or for worse. How about the night I rolled up to your mom's house for the first time. It was December, but it wasn't cold. I saw you in the flesh for the first time. We talked until the wee hours of the morning. And the next day was Christmas Eve Day. I said I d...