Smallhouse Log

Internetsless VI

Five years ago, I was in love with Amanda. It was a Great Summer, and she's still the only girl I've ever made a mix tape for. I never gave it to her, because she broke up with me a month after she left for college. Just going into college myself, I had plenty to distract me. I have plenty to distract me now. I'm not distracted, though.

Ten years ago, I was in love with Erin. It was horrible in all the best ways, and she screwed me up so bad I can't even look at a carnation without getting depressed. I wrote lots of poems about her, but I didn't write any poems for her. Our first date was Deep Impact, and I still have the ticket stub.

Fifteen years ago, I was already in love with the past. The year before, the Twins winning the world series, early grade school. I was good at spelling, then. I spent all my free time playing make-believe. I had superpowers. I have superpowers now; I used them the other day. I remember using them. I don't remember what they were.

I can't go back any farther. Twenty years ago, I suppose, I was just getting out of a cast that encumbered one of my legs and my entire lower torso. I played with a lot of Legos. I hung out in cardboard boxes. I have pictures.

Twenty-five years ago, I was, as they say, a twinkle in my daddy's eye.

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