I’m flipping through old photos again. The ones I always swear I’m going to throw away but somehow just can’t. I find them everywhere. Buried at the bottom of my wallet. Hidden beneath mountains of clothes or tucked away in my bottom dresser drawer. Pushed far beneath my bed and far to the back of my mind. Until moments like this when my eyes can’t deny and I’m literally face to face with the past.

I found this one in my car. I bumped the glove box with my bag and it slipped right into a puddle. For a moment I just watched it as it sank deeper and deeper into the mud.
“I’m so good at forgetting,” I said aloud. Why can’t I forget this?
I didn’t recognize the photo at first. Not until I brought it inside and placed it with the rest of them. One by one I flip through until I find one like this that makes me stop. My hand hovers above the trash can.
It’s one of me and you at the lake. One of those warm summer days that even now pulls my lips into a smile. I remember you leaned back and pressed your cheek up against mine.
But I didn’t smile. I never could.
In this photo I’m looking away. My knees are pulled up to my chest and my arms are wrapped around me. Not around you. You have a big goofy grin on your face and your arm is around my waist. I am pulling away, resisting. I’m looking out into the distance, my gaze and thoughts clearly focused somewhere else. I never knew how to be happy. To live in the moment. To just smile, even just a tiny bit.

Not you though. I can’t get your cheesy smile out of my head, even as I toss the photograph to the side. You were always so sure, so knowing. Not once did you ever look away from the camera or try to hide behind walls. The walls I just couldn’t let go of. The ones I built to keep you out.

You always knew what you wanted. I wish I would’ve had the courage to just lean back and let everything else go. To smile right along with you.