this used to be my favorite place to write.
i would park in the lot, slide in between the metal gates, & climb into the creaky bleachers.
it was my place.
a place that bred memories of legit friday night lights,
of wearing jerseys of handsome boys,
of leading the “pump it up” cheer at least four times during game time,
of watching my best friend perform back flip after back flip on the asphalt,
of acting as quarterback on the powderpuff team,
& of creating memories that i will never forget.
this place used to be for what i will always refer to as my glory days.
some very happy times,
some of the most treasured times,
some of the loveliest of times.
this place used to be where i would meet him.
on sunday afternoons,
for four years,
in the spring, summer, fall, & winter, we would meet at 3 p.m. every sunday.
rain or shine, we would show up.
it was a date of sorts, one only he & i would understand.
i would splash on a little not-trying-so-hard make-up before i drove over,
& for the next two hours that soon followed,
i would giggle, stare, & fall harder & harder for the guy standing at the fifty yard line.
his sweat never grossed me out & the subtle redness of his nose & cheeks during the winter months only drew me closer.
this was our place.
this was for us.
& soon, it was for them.
after the split, it became easily avoidable.
if i wanted to visit, i could, but i always risked the awkward run-in.
this had become their place,
their bonding spot,
their field to make the memories.
there were even times when i wouldn’t turn down the street because i wasn’t ready for the possibilities that could exist.
my once favorite place soon became a source of pain.
during times of loneliness, i took no time to acknowledge its existence.
in all the years between him & me & them, i couldn’t bare to admit the struggle to visit.
it all seems too trivial to explain.
then came the time when i finally had to drive-by.
i had no choice.
i had to go.
& even then, after all the years that passed in-between, it still hurt like hell.
& maybe that’s okay.
maybe it’s okay that there will always be that one place that reminds me of him,
of the one guy who made me giggle like a schoolgirl,
of the one guy who made me fall harder than i ever wanted to admit,
& of the one guy who trusted me on his turf (pun intended), all the seasons of the year & every sunday in between.
this used to be my favorite place to write,
now, it’s just a field.