I'm thankful for Them

Click this song before you read and listen to it while you read. Otherwise you're lame.

I popped the collar of my teal corduroy bomber jacket yesterday as I walked briskly out of my last class. I wrapped my purple scarf and zipped the jacket, because I knew it was going to be brisk outside. I raked my hand through my staticky collegiate mess of short hair and plucked my headphones from my pocket as I walked, placing them in their appropriate ears. Placed my thumb on the front of my iPod. Shuffle. Shuffle shuffle. Sam Cooke Little Red Rooster, no, Jane is a Groupee Sly and the Family Stone, Ain't Got You, Barbra, Emiliana Torrini, no, Border Song, no, Queen, Daisy Eagan, Mr. Moonlight, no. Aida? Definitely not. Thumb thumb thumb. Not Pink Floyd, no, Vertical Herizon, no, thumb thumb, Keane, Don't Ever Change by the Beatles? Closer. Close Up Frou Frou, My World Ray Charles Noooooooo The Pogues? Too....Irish. I'm Irish. Anyways.

Simple Minds. Don't You (Forget About Me).

I looked up and smiled, remembering.

I cranked it up, flipped the lock button, stuffed the iPod into my back pocket, yellow leaves rained everywhere. It was windy. I ran pell-mell past the Hinckley building, staff parking, across the crosswalk, past the stretch of lawn, over the Marriott Center, and as I ran up the stairs to my car, and closed my eyes for a second (yes running up stairs with eyes closed and headphones in try it sometime) my hair whipped long around my shoulders and my clip-clip-clipping high-heeled boots were my dirty old brown Converse for a second, and I was wearing bellbottoms and a raggedy polo shirt and my patchy old jean jacket all of a sudden. As I hit my car and zoomed home, I transferred the iPod to my radio and blasted the song Slow change may pull us apart when the light gets into your heart baby don't you forget about me Don't Don't Don't Don't again and again and again, and down University I left my windows rolled down, drove with my knee, and threw my arms out to my sides. I flew at 65 mph. It was flying. I flew home to the weekend to see them.

In high school, three people and I dressed up as the Breakfast Club. Then we decided we could be them. Even though we were all in drama. Do you know who the Breakfast Club is? I sure hope you do. If not you're missing out on some quality.

The four of us were the Breakfast Club for Halloween in my junior year of high school, Trevor in his jean jacket with a bandana affixed somewhere, Casey with a paper letter tacked to the front of his white track jacket and a blue wife beater inside of it. Dave wore a sweater, and I wore the parka and the dirty Converse. We were missing a princess, but we didn't ever find somebody.

We were in high school together. And the three of them meant very much to me. Very much more than I can say. Trevor drew me funny pictures and I always had him on the phone crooked between my ear and my shoulder telling him every bit. And Dave listened and knew all the things I didn't and corrected my grammar. And Casey, well, we fought a lot, but we loved each other a lot too. He always gave me piggybacks in the grocery store when I was tired and danced with me in parking lots. We all did plays together. The four of us. The four of us had a balance.


We haven't all been together since 2007, because people have been being grownups in all kinds of ways. And things are obviously a lot different now.

But last night Casey came home from Florida and Trevor and Dave and I were here waiting for him today. We ate lunch and slurped frosties and wandered Target together. All four of us.
Today we were all together. And today I am so thankful for that. It was magic.
(YES MAGIC.)