My hands are thin and wrinkled and my knuckles are knobby. My feet are sore from all the walking I have done and my knees are weak from standing tall for as long as possible. Now I am stuck in this bed with my photographs. The one I hold and look at the most is the one of me and you. High school. We were in high school. You were a senior, yes, I remember it all clearly. I was a junior, but no one cared. I had blond hair and you were tall. This was homecoming. I close my eyes and I see the stiff paper streamers around the old gym and the taste of watery punch spike with mystery alcohol. How I had always wished I could see you one more time, but now I'm nearing my time. Soon I will see you again and we can be young and happy, together forever.