Sunday, 1 February 2009



We met a year ago. It was January. We were waiting for the N35 on a Wednesday night at 1:30 in the morning (okay so technically it was Thursday) outside the Waves on West Hastings. We talked for 45 minutes, while we waited for the bus, about China and the Olympic bid and the fact that the downtown east side is going to bear the brunt of Vancouver's attempts to 'clean up' before we host the world (gag). You laughed when I told you I hoped Taiwan would assert its sovereignty by sending an Olympic team to Beijing. You told me you were studying communications - with a look that suggested you thought it was total BS.

Then we talked for another 40 minutes on the bus ride east. I told you to see the movie Brazil because it is utterly fucked. I think your friend thought I was nuts. You had the sweetest laugh on the face of the planet. We bitched about how difficult it is to bike everywhere in this city because of the hills (MOUNTAINS) and the interminable rain. I told you how easy it is to break into the sealed off parts of the Toronto Subway system. Talking to you made me miss Paulis and Eri and Owain and Jamie. It made me miss midnight biking adventures. It made me miss the summer I was seventeen, when everything was utterly screwed but still oddly perfect. It made me want to curl up with apple juice and Arrowroot cookies and read comic books and watch The Royal Tenenbaums. With you. Because I got the impression you'd think that was a pretty kick-ass Sunday morning too.

We sat in comfortable silence and just smiled for about ten minutes. It should have been awkward but it wasn't. I didn't even get your name until right before you got off the bus at the top of Capitol Hill. I even remember what stop it was. As soon as you were gone I occurred to me that I really should have given you my number. Only I never do that, so it didn't occur to me until it was too late.

I hoped I would run into you on campus, or maybe on the Drive or someplace, but I never have. Which kind of sucks. Because I really liked you. And I can't seem to forget about you. If nothing else, we could have gone on random biking adventures and painted the town red (maybe even literally). I miss knowing boys like you.

- sarah merise

1 comment:

lauren said...

"It made me miss the summer I was seventeen, when everything was utterly screwed but still oddly perfect."

Are all seventeenth summers like that, I wonder?

I hope you find him. =]