For once instead of thinking he was gone, I caught myself thinking of the way Brooklyn and I got together in the first place.
Brooklyn and I met 3 years ago when I started grade 9. We we're both attending North Wood High, and of course I was noticable cause I was new to our little town. He was a sophomore, an adorable guy. Luckily, the girl I became best friends with was dating his best friend, so we eventually tagged along, single together. In a matter of time we fell for each other and on October 21st, he had finally asked me to be his girlfriend.
Brooklyn had set up a surprise picnic and had made it our first date in a park by the lake. The leaves were already colourful and the late october breeze cooled the air surrounding us. He had ordered pizza and bought me flowers, beautiful red roses. For some people they may not have found it super romantic, but I on the other hand absolutely loved it.
We had carried on conversations about our biggest fears, our goals in life, and so on. It was only so much of a coincidence that we feared and or wanted the same things in life. Well, beside the fact that Brooklyn was in rolling himself in OSUT (One Station Unit Training) and wanted to serve in the military once he was 18.
I had quickly feared the military but also quickly learned that it was only a fear of losing him, not of the whole process itself. Brooklyn started training not too long after we started dating and as bad as it was being away from him, training wasn't nearly as bad as the pain I would be experiencing now. At least then I could see him, forget that now. 17 months is a long time, especially to go without someone you love.
Beyond that fact, I turn the water off after my long thoughtful shower and wrap a towel around my tiny body, leaving the clothes lying on the floor.
I check my phone for the time and my screen saver of Brooklyn in his camouflage and combat boots shows up, forcing me to painfully smile, warming my heart, yet placing a lump in my throat. I realize I didn't even catch the time, so I press it again. 7pm, and I realize I had tons of unread messages from Lynzee, my girl was worried about me.
I realize I am still in my towel so I go back up stairs to my room. I push through the door and grab a pair of Brooklyn's old sweat pants and one of his sweaters. I turn to look in my dresser mirror to brush my hair up into a high ponytail and polaroid pictures of Brooklyn and I stare back at me. Pictures from day one of us to this morning sit there. As I turn to pull some we took before he departed from my bag, I can't help but notice that his transformation is heartbreaking.
He doesn't look like Brooklyn anymore. His blonde messy hair has been buzzed short to almost nothing, his bright green eyes full of adventure and happiness have been drained. Yet, his strong, beautiful smile remained, just like his mom.
I turn to my bed and plop myself down, it's comfortable but not as comfortable as his arms. I lay there for a bit fighting tears and looking at the stars from my window. I couldn't help but wonder if those stars would light up his sky too when it turns black out in Afghanistan. Within minutes I was out cold.