You were mine and I was yours, and I can't say that we were happy, but we certainly appeared to be. I saw our entire life flash before my eyes, all of it laid out in front of me like hundreds of little Polaroid pictures. It was like a photo album of our perfect life together.
It started off softly, like the photographs had faded, but darling I still remember how we met at a party. We were all sitting around laughing and talking and holding on tightly to the fringed ends of summer. There were no expectations, but it was the end of vacation, and I'm glad you finally took your chances.
Just like that we were t-shirts, blue jeans, and cotton-candy coated conversations. We had snow-cone smiles, and we were wasting moments seeing whose tongue was redder. We were all starry-eyed with hands entertwined at the top of that giant, neon ferris wheel, when we shared our first kiss that day at the fair. And there it was right in front of me, in a color photograph that I didn't know had been taken, from when we were happy.
It wasn't long before we were Johnny and June, reading our vows and saying "I do," and that pretty white dress made me feel like a Disney princess. Each side of the family came to share in the joy, to sit and reminisce, and for at least a year or two, we were happy.
Since that day, I can't really say what's happened to us, or where we've gone. We still have each other, but sometimes I wonder, and I realize that I'm not enough. You sit around in your heartache, listening to archaic records and asking yourself if this was a mistake. And you don't know I know, but I know what you're feeling and, darling, I feel that way too. But there was a time when I know we were happy, and I know that you felt it too. We can't get that time back, but we'll look at photographs, and perhaps it'll make this place brighter.
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