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The comfort level of my grandma’s bed along with the warmness of the heater and her soap opera on in the background is making it really difficult for me to keep my eyes open.
Who would’ve thought that the boy I crushed so hard over when I was sixteen, the one who laughed at everything I said even when I didn’t say anything funny, the one whose leg I would rub up and down with my foot while the teacher was lecturing just to see the red flush over his cheeks and mouth the word “stop” at me only to continue doing it to me once I ceased, the boy who wore white pants to school that one time ‘cause his best friend and I convinced him to, the one who owned white pants, the one who sent me a picture of himself in his underwear for my birthday, the boy that no one noticed that year - only me, the one that watched Across the Universe with me instead of doing our work in Spanish class, the one that would argue back and forth with me over everything and nothing, the one who called me every insulting name (never a curse word) imaginable with a big smile on his face and a wink right after, the boy who set a reminder on my iPod about his birthday - the one that’s still in there to this day, the one who read my Teen Vogue and Cosmo magazines with me when we had nothing else to do and that other girl we talked to in class was absent, the boy who called my name from across the room our first day in our sophomore science class together because we had only been friends on MySpace til then, the one who told me he didn’t see me the same way I did when I first let my true feelings be known, the boy who was there for me when Scott first screwed me over before we even started dating, the one who watched me fall in love with a boy who wasn’t him, the boy who confessed his love for me three months too late, the boy who grew up to be one of the cool kids, the one who would only smirk at me in the halls if I was holding hands with someone else but give me hugs when no one was looking, the boy who drifted out of my life but never out of my mind, who would’ve thought that he would come back?
I wish “I’m not coming in today because I had the worst dream and I need to spend the day with my grandmother” was a valid excuse for skipping my internship today.
My favorite thing to do on Sundays is to sit at the kitchen table at my grandma’s house, eat menudo, and listen to the conversations in Spanish about politics, education, sports, and gossip.