i talked to my best friend monday night amidst tears and panic about moving. i said that i didn't know why i was upset, and she said, not to my surprise, really, "it's because you've never left. you hate that town. you have since you got there. you've never liked it, crappy things have happened there, you've been trying to leave for years, and you've never left. and now you probably will." rita, earlier in the same evening, had said, "why on earth would you stay here? what's here for you?" and i couldn't come up with a what, only the occasional who, and if anyone knows that you don't have to be in the same town for a friend to stay a friend, it's me.

now, at day's end, i'm exhausted, and i'm very aware of missing stevie, of wanting to wrap my arms around her, fall asleep to the sounds of her breathing. i still feel like my time away from her is a mistake, a grueling heavy one, the kind that old men carry with them throughout their lives and impart to nursing home staff, so that those wild youth can avoid making the same mistakes. "if i had it all to do again," they'd say, because every bit of nostalgic wisdom begins this way, "i would make sure i was willing to give it all up for true love when it came my way. you don't get that many chances, so i'd make it count while i could." and they'd get that far-off look in their eyes and you'd remember movies like 'the notebook' or whatever else nicholas sparks has recently written, and you'd get teary-eyed. the point is, that's not the kind of mistake that i would want to carry with me, and that's the kind of mistake that not being with her when i feasibly can feels like it would be.