Stephanie White

You’re planning a baby shower, I left my Nordstrom credit card at the bar last night.

It will be winter. It will freeze you, it will thaw you, it won’t be as bad as they had warned.

1. Get up early. Even earlier than you’re used to. Walk through the dark to your first cup of coffee. Put your phone in your pocket and keep in there.

It was Wednesday and I was walking home in a hurry with my hood tucked over my eyes to hide my yoga hair.

She races but she wanders too. Her shoes are white like summer and she gets lost on her way back.

You’ll know because the breeze will be warm and friendly and your skin won’t mind it like it used to.

Your jokes sounded like the ones you used to tell. I remember hearing them in the spring when we were teenagers. We still had a few years left and I looked younger than I felt. I used to wear my hair in a braid wrapped over my shoulder. Your flannel shirts were always a size too big and sprinkled in paints.

She liked to pick the smallest flowers from the ground on her long walks home. She liked to keep the ones that grew towards her and the skies, the ones that couldn’t reach. She used to lift them from the soil and tangled weeds, she used to give them a new home with her.

You might need to race me and win. You might need to stop me before I slip off and disappear.

I don’t really remember the leaving.

He’ll be patient and he’ll listen and he’ll look forward to the sound of your voice. He’ll remember the edges of your smallest conversations and he’ll save them in a safe spot just in case.

You can’t wait around for an idea. He disappoints.