Remember me as a time of day.


8am

        You called me most mornings to make sure I got up for my 9:00 class.  Sometimes it was twice because I’d hang up on you in my half-sleep.  You were patient anyway; you were always thinking of what I needed.  My favorite thing was when you didn’t even say hello, you just started singing to me, and I laid in bed with the phone a foot away from my ear because you were so loud, and woke up slowly, and smiled.  I could always start the day smiling with you.  My least favorite thing was when you’d shout into the phone something about “wakey wakey, eggs and bakey.”  I still don’t know what that was all about.


2:30pm

        I’d get out of class and have a voicemail from you.  You often called me in the middle of the day, just to tell me you were thinking about me.  When I called you back I was always still amused and a little bit giggly from whatever message you’d left for me.


7pm

        We had “phone dates” on some evenings, although I don’t know that we ever really needed to make extra time for each other.  It was fun anyway.  In the beginning, I anticipated the time when we could go out on real dates, when you could actually come pick me up, and I could finally see you face to face.  The distance was hard for me, but you told me you were with me in spirit, that God had caused our hearts to beat in rhythm, and nothing could separate us, not even the state line.  You had so many pet names for me.  It was a little weird for me, although I wanted to return the sentiment.  The first time I called you “babe” or “sweetie” or something like that, it was so forced and awkward.  When it started coming out naturally, you were surprised, and I think, a little pleased.


2am

        It was here that you asked me to be your girlfriend, for the third time.  The first had been the previous night, and the second, a few hours earlier.  I was still “thinking about it”, but you had told me a fabulous story about how your great aunt and uncle had gotten married, and I’d told you to ask me again.  I always moved all over campus when I was talking to you.  You said I was like a refugee, always kicked out of one spot, forced to go to the next so that I could plug my dying phone in and not disturb my sleeping suitemates.  This particular night, I’d been on the bathroom floor for quite some time, and moved to the vacuum closet down the hall.  I examined the graffiti on the narrow walls; apparently a few like-minded people had sat in here too during years past.  I said yes, and took a photograph in my memory to keep forever, so I could always remember that moment and tell my children about it, even if there wasn’t all that much to tell.  I’d remember.  I still do, right down to the way it smelled.  


5:15am

        We couldn’t believe we were still talking; you had to get up in an hour to go to work.  Then again, we couldn’t believe we hadn’t talked until this month; where had you been hiding all my life?  Then again, we felt like we’d been talking all our lives.  And yet we never ran out of things to say.


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4am

        It was here that you broke it off with me.  We stood and then we sat in the parking lot outside your house, between another car and mine.  This was our time, the late night.  Wasn’t it?  Perhaps we never made quite enough room for the daylight.  I cried for ever.  The words from your mouth were so adament, but they were like nothing from you that I’d ever heard.  I tried to act like I understood.  I suggested that we pray together, and I held your hand for the last time.  For a moment my spirit was at peace, able to rise above the pavement where things made a little more sense.  We finished and I was still crying, and we stood up.  You warned me that you were going to give me a short hug and leave.  You did.  I can’t remember if I watched you walk back to your house or not.  I don’t think I could see anything at all.
        Please don’t remember me as 4am.