I've saved you a seat

love letter #5

my faraway friend,

let’s take the day—just the two of us. what do you think? 

there are so many ways to spend our full canvas of sunlight. do you have plans? do you have the time? I want to go out walking. have I shown you the marsh, where the deer lay their heads in the evening? let’s bring sandwiches and eat by the water. let’s come back to my place and dance in the kitchen. I love to watch how joy moves in your body. I love how easy it is to laugh with you.

I remember, just before I entered high school, I was allowed to take off and follow a freshman for the day, who would show me how this new life I was stepping into would work — what direction to swim in through the clustered, bustling hallways or how quiet you could be in ordering lunch and still have the cashier ring up your receipt properly. there’s something about that, an introduction to a life, or spending a day shadowing another, that I wish we could still save each other a seat for. 

here is where I spend my breakfasts, we’d gesture. this is my walk to work. I stop right here on the bridge, whenever I remember to, where I can hear the train rattle under my feet and feel the wind pick up when a biker breezes past. here, the last door on the right, is the bathroom stall I prefer to scream in. this is where I eat lunch. would you like a bite? that’s the window I stare at in between words—typically my vision gets snagged between the water tower and the outdoor seating at the bar across the street. this is my day. this is how I look going about it. 

then you could share with me yours. here are your friends, your desk, your dinner table. you lean on your elbows when you think; clasp and unclasp your hands while you’re watching over the stove. here are the thoughts you’re working through and might pick back up again tomorrow. here is what you laughed at. there’s a text that made you blush. here’s a memory that caught you by surprise. and when the evening comes to collect us, won’t we have a better glimpse into the pocket of each others’ lives. I’ll write to you and say, I’m using your recipe for curry tonight, letting the spices heat up and the flavor brighten just like you showed me. how’s your sister doing? what did your thoughts look like today? I miss dancing with you, our feet giddy on the tile floor. I hope you visit again soon.

with love,
schuyler (sky-ler)
venmo: schuylerpeck