Wilderness

I met you when we were both seventeen. I’ve heard about you even before I met you. I knew your name, and I knew what you did. You were the bad boy rock star, and everybody knew you and talked about you, so when we finally crossed paths in school, near the old Assembly Hall, I knew who you were. We said hi, and somehow we have managed to exchange birthdays, but not telephone numbers.

That night, I wrote a fevered entry in my diary.

Now, 22 years later, you walk up to me again, motorcycle helmet in hand. Your smile is still the same. We are no longer young, and what was once a garden has already grown into a wilderness, but I’d gladly walk through the wilderness with you. Thank you for finding me again.

[Image credit]