I caught my breath like a bubble in the back of my throat when it hit me.
The reason I always get sad in the Spring.
For years I pinned it on the ending of things.
The ending of the high school musical
One of the only places I truly felt alive.
The pain I associated with the boy who trailed breadcrumbs for me to follow
and then rejected me when I got to the end of the path.
The smile on his face when we danced together backstage
Those memories
Too painful
And as the snow would melt I would remember
Standing on the loading dock waiting for our parents
And little flakes flickering down around us and
Us not at all holding hands
While you told me what the shapes of all the headlights respresented
Or me confessing I loved you in a letter
And you telling me it felt like you were being pursued by wolves
Or the time my best friend got jumped by five other boys
And the teacher just stood there watching
Or my art project exploding in the kiln
Or my brother's diabetes diagnosis
Or the time my father said he would throw the damn typewriter through the window...
No.
No.
None of those things.
The cool crisp shuddering air of March ushers in something else besides St. Patrick's Day
And hollow heartbreaks and love letters and cursing fathers
The dark of his parents' basement
The window coverings so no one could see what he wanted you to do to him
And what you did do
And how you didn't know to say no
And you didn't know that was also considered rape
And you didn't know love and pain weren't simultaneous and the same
And you didn't know every other girl wasn't doing it
And you didn't know
And that spring depression led to December madness
When the boy they thought was so perfect pulled over his car on the side of the highway and told you he was doing it whether you wanted to or not and as tears spilled over your eyelids you only thought:
If my pantyhose rip my parents will know.
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