as i look out my window
and see the blue ridge mountains
i am reminded
of a boy
who wanted to live in virginia.

as my parents drive on this curvy interstate,
its him yelling at the cars and eighteen-wheelers,
and it’s me reading in the passenger seat.

as we near the city ,
it’s us taking the metro each day
to jobs in important places.
and taking it back home each night
to our home in virginia
with jam, and coffee, and china cabinets.

i was making a bracelet today,
one of the woven types
that the “cool girls” in elementary school would come back from the beach with strands of their hair wrapped in.
you said you would wear one on your wrist
and asked me to show you how to make one.
when i finished,
dissatisfied with the crookedness of the swirling threads,
and asked if you would want it,
you smiled that smile
and let me tie it around your wrist.
don’t say i never gave you anything.