107_yroldvirgin Week 104: The Day I Fell

107_yroldvirgin
Tuesday

Picture 1


Picture 2


107_yroldvirgin’'s Choice: Picture 2

Title: The Day I Fell

The day I fell, it happened twice.

Once to the ground. And once for you.

We’d walked this road before, every single day for almost a year. Your house. My house. Half an acre and a million miles apart. The new boy who never spoke and never even looked my way. The new boy who sat in the back of the bus with his head down and eyes shut, miserable to be here.

I knew the feeling.

Both of us walking the same quarter mile beneath a grove of bent trees overhead. A canopy to cover us. Together. Apart. So alone within two feet of one another.

And then, as sure footed as I’d always been, my attention had been unfocused for just the briefest of moments, thinking of you and wondering what you were thinking of ... and I didn’t seen the divot. Hadn’t anticipated the ground as it rushed up to meet me, face first in the dust, those trees overhead still giving shade, rustling with a faint breeze while I’d burned red from the inside out.

You stopped. Turned and knelt, your eyes the brightest most heartbreaking blue up close. And you’d whispered my name, asking if I was all right. Hand to my head, brushing dirty locks of hair from an even dirtier face.

You helped me to my feet. Brushed off my backpack. Walked me the rest of the way home and stood off to the side of my mailbox as I climbed the three steps to my front door. Making sure I was okay and that I had my keys and got inside safely.

Yes, that was the day I fell. The day you spoke my name. Like I existed. Like you were waiting for an excuse to say it out loud.