The Ballad of Joshua

I.

I made the casual mistake

Of falling in love with my best friend.

Not for his looks, although he was adorable,

But rather for the way I could make him laugh.

His soft chuckle would turn into a hearty guffaw would

turn into butterflies in my stomach, and I would fall again.

He was my best friend, and I tried to get him to laugh as often as I could.

I loved him.

II.

On a band trip to a waterpark,

As we floated down the lazy river,

He suggested that the group held hands.

“So we don’t get lost,” he told us.

Our fingers became intertwined as the group floated on,

But when the others slowly let go, he held tight.

We were left grasping at each other's fingers.

He only let go when someone behind us asked if we were together,

And even then,

His fingers lingered within mine as he said no.

III.

Every October marks the anniversary

Of Joshua’s last day before being pulled out for homeschooling.

As we walked to the bus ramp together for the last time,

He gave me his phone and asked me to take a picture of myself.

“To remember you by,” he said.

I could have kissed him in that moment. (I wish I did.)

Three years have come and gone,

And I love him.

I love him as much as you can love a man.

I miss his laugh and the way he smiled,

Or the way he crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue when we had to sit still

In a silent classroom.

I wonder if he misses me, if he regrets leaving without a real goodbye.

I hope he knows I love him.

I love him.

I love him.