Where we’re From: A Remembrance

Losing a friend is always hard. Losing one so young and unexpectedly is even more so.

We are from green chilies chili
Still warm on the gas stove,
From fresh flour tortillas with refried breakfast beans
And brown sack lunches stuffed with
chicken pickle sandwiches…

We are from trading snacks by the band room door
Trading rides home, my mom or your dad?
From lazy afternoons spent
On couches watching cartoons
And even praying under tables during 6.9 earthquakes
Holding hands like it might be the last time we might ever hold hands…

We are from homecoming double dates,
your football player to my cheerleader.
From bouffant hairdos, styled by local chicas
Your sister was my sister, your mother--my mother.

We are from late-night rides in your Lowrider
boom boom booming down the street
subwoofers �" “So sweet!”
From your dad’s saxophone and my new trombone
marching on cold wet fields
From Monday night rehearsals to Friday night football
with hot nacho chili cheese to keep us warm.

We are from parades, and field shows,
And Hawaii �" snorkeling --
From Hanama Bay to the ‘Frisco Bay
On Pier 39…
We thought we were the stuff!

But my friend…

We are also from hushed conversations
and desperate pleas
and the very best friend
waiting, waiting, waiting for me
After the longest car ride of my life
though it was only five minutes.

We are from silent understanding
And not passing judgment
And the kindest most accepting love a friend can give.
From $200 that made all the difference,
And a mother that loved and trusted another mother more
Than her daughter did that day.

We are from all that
and more than I could ever remember.
But from all that we are and were,
what I remember most is..
I love you.
I miss you.
I will see you again.

Author's Note

The format for this poem is actually based on a more famous poem by a more famous poet. When my good friend unexpectedly passed, all I could think about was all the special moments we had shared... They came to me one after anger like imaginary snap shots in my mind. I could hear the poem writing itself in my mind.