/ by laurel

A letter written to a friend, which also serves as an update for the summer:

Three people missed you yesterday.

Although I'm sure the number was far higher than that, the only people I can vouch for are us three: Bonnie, Josh, Myself.

Yesterday I missed you. I thought about you and how it had been awhile since we talked, and how there was so much to say...but how do I say it? It's all the details, the minutiae, anyway. But there's just so much...

Josh wished you were there last night as he was (are you ready for this?) making fajitas. He's growing up, I tell you. Hunched over the cutting board, slicing vegetables and chicken, rotating between the sizzling pan and the countertop, sipping a mimosa and explaining the art of fajita-making. This is our Josh, the one who, just two short months ago, didn't know how to use an oven. Maybe living in the Rat House causes boys to grow up.

I myself was vacillating between the effects of champagne and the effects of it being so bloody hot in the kitchen. Plop. More vegetables fell to their doom in the pan. Jon was getting antsy; "How can I help? Kitchen helper here!" (bouncing slightly in the way that makes his hair pouf up and down). Josh, en route from the counter to the skillet, caught my eye above his glasses, which, lubricated by sweat and steam, had slipped down the bridge of his nose.

"I wish Ryan were here."

I took a long, slow drink of that champagne in agreement; a silent toast to you. Bonnie echoed the sentiment, adding that she had missed you earlier in the day, as I had.

I know you can't smell those spices as they marinated in the pan, the metaphor of a friend growing up. I know you can't feel the heady, breathless swirl of the champagne and the heat and the hunger, a vicious trifecta that creeps in so innocently. I know you'll never hear the conversation that floated from room to room; Jessica's impassioned yarble, Emily's agreeable Mmm's and Ahhh's, Jon's plucky comments, Brie's endless spew of innuendo. Or even my own woozy contributions.

But last night you were missed. And even though not present, your presence was felt to some small degree.

Life is moving, as ever. This summer has been the best of my life, and I say that with confidence. I want to call you this weekend and tell you about everything; about seeing The Shins and Belle & Sebastian (and Radiohead. And Damien Rice. And Fiona Apple. And the Flaming Lips. And. And!) About going to Santa Barbara to witness (and document) one of my closest friends marrying the girl of his dreams. About staying at Jessica's house and watching Jon and Mrs. Nelson squabble about brownies shaped as prisms ("It is not a prism. It is a mound." -Jon Crosswhite). About Disneyland and the best place to see fireworks. About riding bikes with Adam. About music and about mini-crisis's (I'm no good at what i do! Blaarrrghhh!). About feeling like a kid again.

I miss you.

I missed you yesterday.

I miss you even still.



Here are some photos from this summer:


The Salton Sea

The Time InBetween

Tom & Brit's Wedding