Wish You Were Here

Lots of memories on this drive through Los Angeles, windows down, radio up. An old rock song comes on, and there I am, just a few years ago, in college.

Memories of riding through back country Northern California roads on a summer day with a girl who told me, the first time we woke up together, not to fall in love with her. I can still see her hair shining in sun and flowing in the wind, her smile, how cool she looked with her sunglasses on… If I think back hard enough, I can still feel her hand in mine.

Needless to say, your friend fell head-over-heels in love with this girl. I remember the July 4th we spent together, on the hood of my car at the top of hill, watching fireworks. I remember every single time we cuddled, and how she felt in my arms. I remember the last time we touched.

I remember that day on the roof in San Francisco, when I finally admitted to myself what I already knew all along – that we could never be. We were perfect for each other, but fate can play cruel tricks on the unsuspecting. I still think about her, some days more than others, wonder what she’s doing. Wonder if she still thinks about me like I do her.

I’ll always remember her, I’m sure of it. Couldn’t forget her now if I tried. Especially when that song comes on and takes me back to those carefree days in that small Northern California town, where forever in my mind we’re cruising down a back country road, windows down, radio up.  Miss you, wish you were here.

PS: To the LAPD officer driving car #87148 on 101N today at about 4:30pm, you’re a dick for swerving around the woman in the 2nd lane who had a stall.  I laughed.

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