Remembering Laughter with Her in the Summer

I was 12 years old when I first saw her, passing by for only a brief moment. I was helping my father in the front yard, chopping wood, mowing the grass, and engaging in all manner of manual labour I couldn’t see the importance of. With my father’s focus solely on his work, I wiped the sweat from my forehead and allowed my mind to wander. My eyes soon followed suite, as they usually did, wandering to the sky, the Sun, the leaves, and finally to that old pear tree that loomed high above the rest of the town. That’s when I caught a glimpse of a beaten-down car approaching from across the street, with scratches all across the sides. Her arm lay out the window, her hair flew in the wind, and her head gently moved to the beat of the barely intelligible old songs coming out of the broken radio speakers. Her mother was driving, and a moving truck followed behind them. The world, it seemed, was forever, with her in it.

A few months later, just before my 13th birthday, I was paired with her for a school project. I had seen her many times from across the street, and I was always so enthralled by the energy that seemed to surround her. Putting out the trash at night, she would sing, like this was the most glorious task in the world, like no one was around but her. When the lights in her house went off, she would sit in the front lawn for hours, staring up at the stars, as though longing to know them. I always knew I should talk to her. I knew from the moment I saw her she'd brighten my life.

I sat there at my desk, unsure what to say, hoping she’d break the silence. When she said her name, I felt the warmth of the rest of my life open up.

Daisy.

We worked together on the project for a while, and when school was finally over and it was time for summer, Daisy and I had become close. I don’t know how it happened. Maybe it was just meant to be. Something about her made me feel completely comfortable, and I could tell that I made her feel the same way.

My dad lost his mother that summer, and if there’s one thing he passed on to me it was the inability to process emotions. He didn’t take it well. He spent weeks on the couch, with liquor as the only friend to keep him company. I stayed away. I had seen him like this when mom left, and I wasn’t making the mistake of being around him again. I ran away from him, as far as I could, deep into the distant reaches of a hot summer and a life-changing connection.

I spent my whole summer out of the house, exploring every inch of the town. She was with me every step of the way. Somehow, I felt she was running too, but I never had the heart to ask from what. It didn’t matter, though, because our lives at home seemed to disappear. Our fun together, our laughter, our love, it made us feel like nothing could ever hurt us, like our summer would last forever. In some ways, maybe it did.

I still remember so many of our adventures from that summer. I remember the amusement park, where I was too scared to ride the roller coasters. I remember the ice cream. I remember stealing a bite of her chocolate, and her stealing a bite of my vanilla. I remember the messes on our faces. I remember not having enough napkins. I remember movie nights, sharing a bag of popcorn. I remember her choosing the horror movies, and me going along with them to make her happy, even though they gave me nightmares. I remember choosing the comedies when it was my turn, and looking over to see that she was so bored, yet so happy that I was enjoying myself. I remember her crying, but refusing to tell me why. I remember staying in a hug all night until the tears stopped, feeling her hair on my forehead, feeling her breath on my neck. I remember jumping into the water, my hand in hers, falling in ways I had only ever dreamt of. I remember swimming, submerged in the water, both totally vulnerable and totally at peace. I remember losing at every video game. I remember feeling alive, feeling like I could truly laugh for the first time in my life. I remember the weight lifted, when the feeling of being alone was finally gone.

I remember Todd.

Whenever I tell anyone about Daisy, about that mysterious friend I had for a summer when I was 13 that changed who I was forever, Todd is the example I use.

I’d known Todd since I was at least 5 years old, maybe even younger. We were good friends for a while, but when we got older, we drifted apart. He started getting into sports. He was busy, and he was hanging out with other kids much cooler than me. I didn’t mind, though. He was good at it. I was happy for him. I had started acting distant towards him before he started the sports, anyway. I stopped answering his calls. I told him I was too busy when he wanted to hang out. I blamed it on the sports, but the truth is, it was me, long before the sports. I acted like his new cool friends didn’t bother me, but the truth is, they did. Why did he get to move on so quickly? Why did they get to be friends with him now? Why couldn’t he just hang on, why couldn’t he just give me some time to figure it out? I didn’t understand why I was growing distant with him. I didn’t understand why I couldn’t hang out. I just knew that I felt so weird when I was with him. I just knew that I hated myself every time I saw him.

One day, on our way to the pool, we walked past Todd and his buds. She saw me tense up, and was adamant about knowing what was wrong. I felt held by her look, so I surrendered. I told her something I had never told anyone else, not even myself.

“I’m in love with him.”

Daisy’s support transformed the unthinkable, the repulsive, and the rejected thoughts into something normal and alive. Feelings I had cast aside, never let myself touch, were made tangible and real, like I could hold them, like they were me. She inspired me to do the scariest thing imaginable. After quite some convincing, I approached Todd with the pressure of a thousand worlds weighing on my back, and shared my feelings. With the words uttered, I felt myself weightless, I felt myself floating.

Even though he laughed at me with his friends, and even though the following year he punched me in the halls, it was the best risk of my life. I had finally taken a step into who I was, rather than who I thought I had to be. I had finally shared a piece of myself with someone. I could never have told my dad. With the comments he made about people on the television, and the way he talked about my uncle Matt, I knew he would never let me be myself. My father never even took the time to talk to me about this friend that I was spending all my time with. He didn’t care. All he bothered to ask me about was if I had fucked her.

I could never share with him, I could never be vulnerable or honest, but I had Daisy. I had her.

Then, one day, like a candle suddenly blown out, the summer was done. It was late August, and she came to me with tears in her eyes. She had to move again. Apparently this was common. I was sad to see her go. I didn’t want her to leave. I wanted her to stay here. I wanted summer to last forever. We spent our last day together. The waves of life come and go, like the tears we both had on that final day, and all we can do is ride them as they are. To fight the waves is inevitably to crash.

We both knew there was only one thing we could do to end our summer together. We made our way over to the big pear tree, to that titan that cast the town with its massive shadow, cracking silly jokes on our way there to fill the silences so that we wouldn't think about not seeing each other the next day. We arrived at the base of the tree, and looked up at the infinite trunk that seemed to stretch up as high as the cosmos. We each took a deep breath, and began doing something that I had dreamed of doing ever since I was a little boy, ever since I first laid eyes on that elusive tree off in the distance. Something I knew I had to do, something I was too scared to do until she came along. We climbed the pear tree. By some miracle, we made it close to the top. As the Sun began to set, painting us with orange hues, we looked out at the town, as time seemed to stand still. We watched the town go about its life, cars and buses and bikes coming home for dinner, as if life were going on.

That’s when we shared the look. That look I’ll never forget, as we realised life was in fact going on, and that maybe, in some way, this summer could continue. With fragments of orange light in her hair and on her face, she looked unrecognisable that day from all the other times I had seen her. We looked at each other, locked in a perpetual stare, crying and laughing at the same time, as if the two feelings were linked, on and off until we had no more breath left to give.

Staring at her in that moment, I reflected on our summer together. It was the greatest summer of my life. The Sun had shined down on us, illuminating the flowers, sending light deep into our hearts. When we laughed together, it felt like we were one and the same, it felt like we were invincible. That summer lasted forever.

I knew it then, that something had changed. I felt something I had never experienced before. I loved her. It was the first time I had ever loved anyone. She showed me what love could be. She was the best friend I’d ever had. I miss her. I miss her, when I look over to that pear tree off in the distance. I miss her at the movies, and when I swim. Sometimes I don’t even realise it. I miss her, when I think about who I am and who I was. Maybe she never left. Maybe I’ll see her again, some day.