SpeedBoat

By: Sophie Gordon

I can taste the sunscreen you just lathered all over my face. It tastes sour and like summer.

The sun-in is highlighting my hair in all shades of yellow.

You are driving the speedboat and dancing and all the kids laugh at you.

I am six years old. I am happy.

I stand and bite my nails on the side of the court.

The smell of the basketball is like rubber, and the gym smells like sweat.

You cheer for me to go for it.

You are my coach, and listen.

I am twelve years old, and I just started to fall in love with basketball, our favorite sport.

My mind feels heavy.

I don’t really understand myself.

We can’t find common ground as I am unable to find my footing in life, but you love me still,

and I love you.

I am seventeen years old, and I feel lost.

My puzzle finally comes together.

I feel so happy.

You are proud of me.

You say I’m smart, smarter than my years.

You call me just to say hello, and you are my best friend.

I am nineteen, and I am happy again.

You tell me the news.

I cry. I cry like I have never cried before.

My tears drown me, and I feel weak.

I can’t swim. I lost. I’m drowning. The speedboat drives past me. I can’t catch it and I’m stuck. I

can’t fight it. There’s no point. It’s gone. And I can’t see it anymore. It’s useless chasing it,

because that speedboat is gone.

The day you told me the news, a piece of me left with that speedboat.

Ever since that day, there has been a you shaped outline on my heart.

I think back to the memories I have of you everyday. I daydream of days on the boat, days in the

park, days with you.

I hope I have an infinite amount left, but if I don’t, just know that the outline on my heart is my

favorite part of me.

I am twenty, and I will spend the rest of my years loving you.