this time last year

the drive to your house seemed long. there was always traffic even at hours when the streets should be lonely. i swore one day i’d get into a wreck on the 520. it was easy to get distracted with the water glittering in an endless daze. the mountains crashing into the sky. when it would rain, my distraction mounted. the drops seemed to be exploding from the lake. the water shivered. lights from the bridge slid in warmth down to the water. i loved that bridge. loved that such a pretty thing linked my part of town to yours. when my friends came to visit, i’d drive out of my way to show them the floating bridge. when i’d get off work, it would be somewhere between 3 and 4 in the morning. my whole body would be tired. i would turn the radio on loud to keep from falling asleep. even at 4 a.m. kexp played good music. i didn’t mind the drive really. when i’d get to your house, the leaves would be whipping in the wind. wet, they’d cling to my arms and legs. the car door would inevitably be snatched from my hands and slam shut. i’d walk up your stairs, let myself in, and the feeling of coming home would hit me hard. i would smile to myself as i took off my shoes in the dark.