I measure my life in times removed from pivotal events.
It's a little over four months since the first time I ever knew I loved someone.
It's a little over five years since my first kiss.
It's a little over four hours since my mother texted me to tell me she thinks my grandfather is dying.
The last lucid conversation I had with him, he was asking me about my then boyfriend. Sometimes I want to call Chris and thank him for that. That relationship gave me so much, a wealth that I hope to appreciate one day. But mostly, right now, it gave me firsts and lasts. It gave me the first time I ever loved, and the last time I ever really, truly spoke to my grandfather. And, really, I think I should be okay with that.
Tonight that good-friend boy and I stood at the end of my driveway and we decided it was a good night for a good cry. It's true.
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