One Hundred and Eight

In which I reduce people to notions
and lament 'could'ves' and 'almosts'.

When I think of 1, I think of juice.
Of immediate sweetness and boxes, and fitting into ideas, of portable feelings, and running low. And I think of concentrated attention, and real friends.

When I think of 2, I think of clowns.
I think of unfortunate parties, and jokes being on you. I think of awkward laughter and crying children. Of hiding behind legs and losing sleep. Of rocks. Of pearls.

When I think of 3, I think of glasses.
And things people hide behind. I think of seeing things that've always been there. I think about Harry Potter, and notes, and math class. I think about braces, and being shy, of unreturned smiles, of modesty and hallway glances.
I think of love. Because I still do, and always will.
I think about 'sorry' not being enough.

When I think of 4, I think of guitars.
Of rockstars and jocks, of Clapton and strings. I think of hipsters and short hair, of never caring what people think of you, and being alone with other people.

When I think of 5, I think of coffee.
I think of waking up to truths, of coffee dates, and Ani DiFranco. I think of groups of friends, and falling into place, of forcing feelings, and losing touch.

When I think of 6, I think of bowties.
Of being presentable, of trying too hard. I think of nervous throats and tight collars, never being able to be yoursel, of dressing words up and long distant disappointments.

When I think of 7, I think of bad friends.

When I think of 8, I think of Shakespeare.
I think of words, and a lack of them. Of dramatic, fast emotions. I think of awkward, poorly-delivered soliloquies. I think of premature deaths and easy clean-ups.

When I think of 9, I think of Axe.
I think of dressing up, and raving at clubs, of open shirts and hot sunglasses. I think of sunscreen, and blocking out what you don't want to hear. I think of text messages in the morning, and slow dancing.

When I think of 10, I think of books.
I think of character growth, I think of sitting under trees. I thin kof reading between lines, and exciting chapters, and epilogues. I think of Lord of the Rings, I think of white trees, I think of epilogues.
I think of love. Because I do.

When I think of 11, I think of fanfiction.
I think of replacements for the real thing, and internet connections. I think of conflicting opinions, I think of comments and sly smiles. I think of paths you don't need to travel down to know are bad ideas.

When I think of 12, I think of Beatles.
I think of Across the Universe, and strawberry picnics. I thin kof hometowns, and two very good friends. I think of holding hands, and not holding hands. I think of change.

When I think of 13, I think of anthropology.
I think of questions upon questions upon questions and then confusion. I think of saxophones and vodka. I think of grass and cue balls and questions and questions. And more confusion.

When I think of 14, I think of sundresses.
I think of fast dancing, and one-night affairs. I think of hot legs and lusting, and summer. I think of hospitals and winter. I think of wasting time.

When I think of 15, I think of fire.
I think of being burnt and not being able to keep up. I think of fast words and quickened dancing. I think of dodging kisses and spinning ballerinas.

When I think of 16, I think of vodka.
And beer and tequila and rum and wine. I think of parties and unashamed nudity. I think of great laughter and great theatre, I think of comfortable beds. I think of respecting and respectable friends.

When I think of 17, I think of darkness.
I think of loneliness and being misunderstood. I think of anime and wilting roses. I think of overdue hugs and melted chocolate. I think of unobtainable kisses.

When I think of 18, I think of opportunity.
I think of immediate smiles and easy conversation. I think of fierce loyalty and fast sparks. I think of commonalities and shared loneliness. I think of friendships staying they way they are; should be.

When I think of 19, I think of gender.
And bending it. I think of confusing pronouns and patient smiles. I think of exchanging smiles, of slight flirting, of hesitancy. I think of emails and statuses.

When I think of 20, I think of hair.
I think of short hair, and having things cut too early. I think of coffee being replaced with tea. I think of awkward first smiles, of facebook notes, of the promise of tomorrow.

When I think of 21, I think of arias.
I think of music and musicals, of onstage prescence, I think of distinct giggles and beautiful, burrowing, brown eyes. I think of hesitant goodbyes and feeling silly and unforced smiles.