Status: Active :)
Old Places, Same Faces
Nate Morella
The view we had is probably what I’ll remember most about that summer. Well, and Nate but thinking about the bright lights and ocean doesn’t exactly hurt like it does when it’s about Him. I wouldn’t label our relationship as a ‘summer love’, but then again I wouldn’t label it anything anyway. My mind sometimes wanders to the nights we spent on the beach just talking and watching the waves crash, not caring about anything other than the person next to us, when it got particularly freezing Nate would run back to the car quickly and grab a warm thick blanket and wrap it around our bodies. Or the days we spent walking around town lying under the trees and kissing, stopping by stores trying on outrageous clothes and laughing until our sides hurt, sharing a snow or ice-cream cone from the street vendors. We were perfect for each other, He was mine and I was his, Together forever.
It’s been about two years since then and I can’t really say I’ve fully gotten over Nate it doesn’t help that his Green Bay Packers sweatshirt still hangs in my closet that he gave to me as a gift right before I left so that I would remember him, trust me I would remember that boy even if he didn’t give it to me. I haven’t washed it since then so when I have a bad day or something along those lines I can pull it out and press the fabric against my face and inhale his sweet scent. My friends don’t really know about Nate, I’ve told them a few things but not anything significantly important. Same goes for my family, they just think he’s some kid I hung out with during my stay at my Aunt Joyce’s house in California, technically it’s true but he was so much more than ‘some kid’.
We exchanged emails and phone numbers promising to talk every day, and at the time it sounded like a foolproof plan, it didn’t really turn out that way though. I’d call and he’d be gone, he’d call and I’d be gone, I’d write and get a short rushed answer in return and he’d write and get the same so we just kind went ahead with our separate lives, but Nate Morella is never far from my mind.
I’m traveling up to my Aunt Joyce’s house in a few days in Santa Barbara, I’m pretty sure Nate’s already gone, well I’m hoping anyway.
It’s been about two years since then and I can’t really say I’ve fully gotten over Nate it doesn’t help that his Green Bay Packers sweatshirt still hangs in my closet that he gave to me as a gift right before I left so that I would remember him, trust me I would remember that boy even if he didn’t give it to me. I haven’t washed it since then so when I have a bad day or something along those lines I can pull it out and press the fabric against my face and inhale his sweet scent. My friends don’t really know about Nate, I’ve told them a few things but not anything significantly important. Same goes for my family, they just think he’s some kid I hung out with during my stay at my Aunt Joyce’s house in California, technically it’s true but he was so much more than ‘some kid’.
We exchanged emails and phone numbers promising to talk every day, and at the time it sounded like a foolproof plan, it didn’t really turn out that way though. I’d call and he’d be gone, he’d call and I’d be gone, I’d write and get a short rushed answer in return and he’d write and get the same so we just kind went ahead with our separate lives, but Nate Morella is never far from my mind.
I’m traveling up to my Aunt Joyce’s house in a few days in Santa Barbara, I’m pretty sure Nate’s already gone, well I’m hoping anyway.
♠ ♠ ♠
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