What I Know

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It was that I knew blueberry jam was her favorite and that she loved thunderstorms. That I knew she had already planned out her kids' names. I knew she liked to go into office supplies stores and just look at the wall of Post-It notes, and that she had kept a diary since she was eight years old.

He didn't know her favorite color or movie, while I knew that she changed her mind between green and orange almost every week and that she had loved Stand By Me ever since she saw it in eighth grade. He didn't know that she thought white roses were the most beautiful thing in the world or that she always drank Diet Coke when she studied. Maybe if he knew her favorite sound was saxophones or that she loved rooftops and Paul Simon, I would have been okay with them together.

But it was the fact that not only did he not know any of these things, he also didn't want to. How could he expect to have anything with a girl as special as she was, when he didn't know she liked more jelly than peanut butter on her sandwiches or that the song "Wagon Wheel" always made her cry because it reminded her of her friend in rehab?

I have known and lived next to this girl ever since I can remember. I have seen her cry countless times and whispered secrets under couch forts in the middle of the night with her. I helped her learn to ride a bike, spent countless summer days and nights with her, and watched her grow into the loveliest, most beautiful thing in the world. And now, I am being forced to watch her date some guy. Some guy who could care less that she still resented the bangs her mom gave her when she was five. Who doesn't know she wakes up in the middle of the night to write down poetry that she dreamed. Who doesn't know that I have loved her for my entire life.





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