There’s something about that girl. You know the one. Everyone has one. The one with the curl in her hair and the almost smile that leaves you there where you stand with fewer words and less a man.
We’ve all had a girl who put us in our place and left us there on the shelf with the broken toys or in a box in the garage somewhere. We wonder if that favorite t-shirt we never should have let her have is in there too or if she uses it to clean that place behind the toilet like the girl in Singles…or if she gave the lemon tree to a friend.
We sit and wonder which words we should have spared…no, damn it, we know exactly the ones because some of us just can’t seem to keep them in…and we remember hers too, all of them, all too well.
We remember the long walks home when she didn’t answer and the knowing, the sinking inevitable ‘hello’ she never echoed when we came home to an empty house at the top of a long gravel drive between the pines on a sunny August afternoon.
We remember the night before she left for Mexico, topless with a glass of water in the kitchen, and the stories and the years between and how she’s a single mom now and can’t remember much from those days.
We remember you all…with love, mostly, and we wonder, where you are, and what if.
And when I am hours into a climb in a place where the empty space is filled with the moment I see her face, yes, that one giving me the finger on my ski and smile, and sometimes laugh out loud knowing I will never see those days again.
Cut to scene from K2:
Harold: What do you think about when you climb?
Harold: Sex you’ve had or sex you’re going to have?
Taylor: Neither, sex I didn’t have…