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Small Moments Like This

Small Moments Like This

"Life is made of small moments like this."

I used to think you felt bitterness on your tongue whenever you said those words; that you wanted moments to last longer than just simple, fleeting feelings.

I used to think you hated our future never being experienced fully, but all of a sudden they are memories and we are saying things like, "Remember when?"

I used to think your small nose that was blanketed with freckles and one stud you got pierced on our sixteenth birthday and refused to take out even when Dad threatened to kick you out if you wouldn't was permanently stuck in the air, disgusted with the world and how fast life seemed to pass by.

I used to think you felt the same way as me.

It wasn't until I was standing in your room last month that I began to see the small things that made up not just those moments you felt like life was made of, but also the small things that made you who you were.

Birthday, Easter, and Christmas cards from our distant family litter your bulletin boards, dating back to even when you were seven years old; flowers your best friend gave you when he took you to prom were dried, pressed, and preserved in a picture frame that hung above your nightstand; our matching beaded necklaces we made when we were in grade school was looped around your desk lamp; and your canvases... your canvases were flooded with landscapes I never knew you'd seen and people I didn't think you cared for.

It wasn't until last month that I understood how much you adored living everyday with so much love in your heart.

You weren't the type of art that looked like a mural on the side of a pizza parlor - one that you pause to ponder at for a second or two. Instead you echoed a disaster on the side of a road - a chaos that resembled a Michelangelo painting that everyone talked about. We stared at it... but we could never fully grasp what was going on inside of it.

You had blonde hair, frizzy and disarray, yet somehow every piece of you was in a place it belonged in.

Your brown eyes were like mine, except they weren't. 

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A/N: One day I will finish this short story, but until then, it will be waiting here x