From Spiraling to Separating

What it’s like when you’re here and they’re there.

BY KATRINA BAILEY

Do you remember when I was six and you were four?

It was a summer day in Lawton, Oklahoma. Our parents had just bought us a trampoline for the first time, and I was nervous.

I had fear in my eyes as I gazed upon it from under our awning.

You had delight in yours.

You ran right through our yard and leaped onto the trampoline, starting to jump. I was bewildered. I crept my way through the crunchy, brown grass, it prickling my feet every time I stepped. As I got closer, my fear fizzled out, and curiosity set in. I hopped up onto the trampoline and followed your lead. Our voices of laughter filled the July air. Two lines crossing over and over again, spiraling tightly together, our stories becoming one.

All the small moments we had together weighed heavily on my mind when I had to leave you at home while I went away to college. Every small thing we did together felt like a lifetime ago.

But now, I can’t see you continuing to compete in sports, see you dressed up in a bow tie for the formal, have you find me late at night to show me a song or ask me what shoes match your outfit.

I can’t watch you continue to grow up.

Through the lens of my mom’s camera and Snapchat memories, I see it now. We grew up together and we are continuing to, in our own separate ways. Intersecting lines pointed away from one another, destined to cross again. Whether it is a few feet across the hall or thousands of miles apart, I miss you.

My heart continues to bounce on a trampoline of our memories, ready to be reunited.