I will remember 28.
I’ll remember that he delayed his trip to spend the week of my birthday with me
And how he refused to let me pout that night.
I’ll remember lying on the filthy couch on the balcony and watching him read Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
And knowing right then that I was in love with him.
I’ll remember resistance and awkward transitions
And finally seeing that there was nothing to lose, only something to have.
I’ll remember a cold trip to Melbourne
And the guilt that came after.
I’ll remember the pain of that broken part being seen for exactly what it was
And the peace that came after I forgave it.
I’ll remember a sunset on Koh Lanta
And chilling at Chill Grill.
I’ll remember being on stage
And making a crowd laugh.
I’ll remember being on stage
And forgetting my lines.
I’ll remember being on stage
And seeing ‘me too’ in their eyes.
I’ll remember special shakes in Pai
And the power of zero.
I’ll remember the hedges in Bath
And sneaking a smoke near Stonehenge.
I’ll remember walking for ages in Amsterdam thinking we were pretty screwed
And it turning out totally fine. Better actually.
I’ll remember how the Onsens in Japan blistered my toes
And watching an underground rap battle I couldn’t understand.
I’ll remember having the perfect meal with him in Thailand
And finishing his steak.
I’ll remember that news crashing through my world like a meteorite
And realizing I could never be as innocent again.
I’ll remember the disappointment of losing something that was only real in the past
And knowing it had come full circle.
I’ll remember 10 days of silence
And Coldplay’s Yellow on repeat in my head.
I’ll remember that massive spider on my bathroom wall in Chiang Mai
And learning new anatomy.
I’ll remember that hike in the Indian city of lakes
And the Iranian Sweedish girl giving me the best compliment of my life.
I’ll remember almost losing it at Rainforest
And finding it inside.
I’ll remember him finally finding me there
And being reminded he would do anything for me.
I’ll remember a plane ride over Seattle
And that ugly blue house.
I’ll remember being given a gift of blue and purple glass
And it shattering along with my world.
I’ll remember that phone call
And that panic in my chest.
I’ll remember living with pain
And getting used to it.
I’ll remember that saying goodbye to mom and dad never gets any easier
And that in Idaho coconut oil is a solid.
I’ll remember MKF
And my birthday twin in Tulum.
I’ll remember the rancher hat that changed my life
And the advice to stop whatever else I was doing and write.
And then I’ll remember 29.