I Looked Up To Him

The perspective of someone who looks up to another from a young age

There was a time I looked up to him

when we played charades.

I would kneel on the ground,

bouncing up and down,

shouting what I thought he was doing,

never caring that I was a mile off.

He would do weird things with his hands and face,

and I would giggle at how silly he looked.

Sometimes we'd play for so long,

I'd be unable to look down afterwards.

There was a time I looked up to him

as he came on the stage.

He wore a blue cap and gown,

and as he accepted his diploma,

it hit me he'd be off in a different state,

and I'd have to face high school alone.

He'd be in college, studying journalism,

and I'd be in high school, studying girls.

My tears stopped at the bridge of my nose,

gravity sinking them into my skin.

There was a time I looked up to him

when he flew to another country to live there.

I watched him wave from beyond the plane window

until I couldn't see him anymore.

Soon, he was a speck in the sky.

Imagining him in a different country,

in a different continent,

on the other side of the world,

I thought that was as far from me as he could ever get.

There was a time I looked up to him,

and I still haven't stopped.

Every time I want to talk to him,

I look up at the sky.

I never stopped looking up to him.

I don't think I ever will.

The man he became

is a man I could only hope to be.

Every time I want to talk to him,

I look up at the sky.

He's up there somewhere. It's the only place he could have gone.