Just Write

It was, quite honestly, a very unmemorable day. In fact, I don’t even recall what day of the week it was, or what time, besides that it must not have been too late because the sun had not yet set. I was driving through town, because I despised the tiny merge lane onto the highway, and so would rather take the long way over fear of having to drive on the sides of the road if I couldn’t merge in time. Perhaps an unreasonable fear, but a prominent one nonetheless. I was going through old town, where you had to drive 20mph, and stop frequently for people crossing the streets. In fact, there were quite a lot of people out that day, walking the cobbled sidewalks, shopping the small, hidden stores, and eating from the diners and fancy restaurants that lined the streets. 

I was at a red light, the first in line. I saw three people waiting to cross the street. Two girls, and a boy, perhaps college aged, maybe a little younger. One of the girls was wearing an oversized striped sweater, with her hair in braids, clutching a coffee cup and a tote bag. I believe the other girl was taller, with dark hair and a gray sweater. The boy was wearing a beanie and a scarf and a loose long sleeve shirt. Now, my first inclination was that of distaste, I will admit, simply because they seemed a little all over the place, talking and fidgeting at a stop light. The boy turned his head to look at something else, when the light for them signaled a crossing, and the two girls started walking. I watched, a smile slowly creeping up my face, as they got almost all the way to the other side before the boy realized he was being left behind. He broke into a grin and ran across the street, the two girls turning around in surprise, not realizing he hadn’t been right behind them. I watched them as they laughed and walked up the white stone steps to the domed library, likely to read and have a good time. The smile stayed on my face for the rest of my car trip. It was a beautiful moment, and to me, was a picture perfect of raw humanity. Of mistakes being made, but joy coming from them anyway. Of different personalities and attentions capturing their gazes long enough for that moment to happen. Of childlike joy of being able to run after your friends. I started imagining, after this moment, of their own humanity. 

I’d imagine that the girl with the braids was an avid reader. A kid who maybe used to lie on their reading logs, who checked out too many books to read before the return of them. I’d imagine that she’d spend hours losing herself in different worlds, trying to find her own calling amongst the worn pages of simple words. I’d imagine that as she got older, she thrived with writing and reading. She delved deeply into stories at their core, weaving tales of woe and love and truth in pretty ways. She was a coffee drinker, but only black. She didn’t believe in drowning the taste of it in sugar and milk. I’d imagine she got the sweaters she wore from her grandmother, and so she longed for the time of autumn leaves and early snowfalls, for a chance to wear her favorite clothes again. 

The second girl, the one with the darker hair, I’d imagine she was tired. She works too many hours and spends too many nights doing homework by a flickering lamp light. She had never wanted to be a scientist particularly, but one high school class changed it for her when her teacher encouraged her to reach the bounds of humanity’s knowledge. She grew to long for the vast expanse of pure truth, the nearly limitless and fascinating boundaries of science inspired her beyond words. It was hard, harder than she had ever thought it could be, but she had never enjoyed something more. I’d imagine that she spent hours working on lab reports, I’d imagine that she had cherished memories of showing her little brother that there wasn’t anything to be afraid of when holding a frog or watching a snake make its way to finding a home. I’d imagine she was ready, ready to write reports on new findings, ready to show her family her success and her pure joy in the simple things in life.

I’d imagine the boy was quiet at first. Quiet, but louder than anyone else. His humor was what first drew the two girls to him, and then, his gentle kindness was what made them stay. He was an artist, delighting in sights around him, as everything was inspiration for his mind. I’d imagine he would come home from school with hands stained from charcoal drawings. I’d imagine he loved to bring everything he saw around him to life, filling sketchbooks with deep pencil strokes and watercolor stains. He was scared his aspirations wouldn’t be enough to satisfy those around him, but he grew to learn that they were large enough to fill his heart and that was all that mattered. Through the trio’s friendship, they learned much about not only each other, but life and ways to make it matter in the simpler things.

I’d imagine the boy has a drawing of all three of them.