To Dan, From Phil

Chapter two: In Which The Lake Meets The Stars

Hello, Dan. Well, you've continued onto the second part of this letter. I suppose you must like this, despite how dorky you may find it.

I wrote and rewrote this part of the letter many times. It's one of my fondest (and earliest) memories of our friendship. The Sunday after we met. I'm sure you remember, and I'm sure you're grinning like mad at the memory. 

It was my first time in that town, so you decided to take me around town on that faithful Sunday in 2009. I even remember the date. October fourth, 2009. I loved every second of it, especially all the dogs that were out and about with their owners. The shops were so fun. People kept looking at us funny, I wasn't sure why until much later. But that's a topic for later in this overly elaborate letter. Right now, we're going back to our first Saturday.

I wanted to stay in but you insisted we go into town so you could show me around all the little shops and cafés. It was the most fun I'd had in months, and you seemed to have been enjoying yourself as well. There was a coffee shop you wanted us to go to, you said it was your very favorite. I saw why when we walked in, it was very Daniel-esque.

There were little couches and stools in every corner. There were only two actual tables. Band posters hung on the walls, from Muse to Mumford and Sons. Over the speakers was a custom playlist of every band in between. We went to get our drinks and sat down at a tall table.

We laughed and chatted like two old friends as we sipped from comically large ceramic mugs. We heard strumming and drum beats coming from the square, upon seeing what it was, your eyes lit up and you dragged me away from the cafe. You grinned as we ran towards the square, where a local cover band was performing.

The band was quirky in its members, they ranged from teens with scrappy hair to grown men with full beards and even one with turquoise hair. They played Little Lion Man and you smiled and nodded along, but there was a certain song that caused you to, as many in our generation said, "let loose". This song was, surprisingly, "Home" originally by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeroes. People had, by this time, started gathering in the square. You recognized one of the faces in the crowd and offered her your hand. I would later find that this was Louise. 

The two of you found your way to the center of the crowd and lost yourselves. I peeked over the crowd and saw you two laughing and, well, just really trying your gosh darn best. You saw me through the crowd and motioned for me to come forward, by this time the song had changed to "The Cave" from Mumford and Sons newest album at the time, Sigh No More. You opened up the circle and let me in, and then we let another person in, and then another. Until we were all one big circle twisting and spinning, laughter coming from people of all ages. Off to the side we saw parents spinning their children and men and women spinning their spouses. There were people of all different races and backgrounds, religions and lack thereof, but at this time it seemed that we all set aside our differences and enjoyed ourselves. Soon thereafter, we all went our separate ways, save for you and me of course.

From there we took our leave, and on we went.

I suppose you remember what happened next, a car drove by through a puddle, I got splashed, you cussed out the poor sap as he sped away, then you insisted that I wear your jacket for the rest of the day so that I wouldn't get sick when I refused to go back to the dorms. By this time the sun had started to set. You said there was one more place you wanted to take me before we headed back. 

We caught a bus and got off about two blocks from the school. You took me off the beaten path and we went into the woods, following a trail marked by ribbons.

We walked until we reached a clearing. By then, the sun had set over a lake, and the first stars began to appear. We sat on the grass and you pulled out your iPod and earbuds. You looked to me and said, "We've talked a lot today. Why don't we sit here and listen, for now, yeah?"

I nodded, and you grinned. We laid in the grass, your feet facing eastward toward the trees, and mine westward towards the lake. We laid there and soon we were surrounded by a blanket of stars. I could see the lake, and could barely make out where water ended and sky began.

Sometimes I would point out different constellations and stars and planets. You would smile and nod politely. There was point when a spider crawled on your hand, you yelped and jumped up. When you sat up you stilled for a moment, still in shock, but then you threw your head back and laughed at yourself. When you finally settled down, you had a tear in your eye and a grin plastered on your face. The full moon was half risen and framed your head like a halo in a renaissance painting. I wouldn't have admitted it then I don't even think I realized it then to be honest. But now, looking back, I realize that in that moment, your beauty put the stars to shame. That's really sappy, I know, but it's true.

I was, at first, only looking to be friends with you. But, in all honesty, in that moment I felt a ping in my stomach, a ping that I wouldn't recognize until months after.

Enough about that though, in this situation, we were both still pretending to be straight. I got sidetracked, back to the memories I suppose.

You stood, offering me your hand to help me up. We walked in comfortable silence back to the dorms. We got to our room and both got into our separate beds, too tired to talk, too awake to sleep. So we stayed up for a while, giggling and texting back and forth.

(Letter continued on next sheet in paper bag)