Saturdays with you.

When we were three and five respectively, our parents introduced us. Our dads were friends in college, you see? And our mums neighbours. I hated you the minute we met because you pulled my hair. But our parents loved playing rummy and disregarded us like they disregard children. 

We went on beach days every Summer, and on vacations together. We knew each other’s grandparents, and cut the other’s birthday cakes. You were my way into the school’s who’s who in high school, and I hated the three years we spent apart when you moved to another city, till I followed you there.

But my favourite memories will always be Saturdays with you. Eating breakfast at mine and dinner at yours. Our little sleepovers. Our little fights. The first time we kissed. The first time you fell in love with my best friend. The first time you met my crush on a double date, and you telling me to stay away from assholes who gaslight. 

My favourite memories are Saturdays with you. My best friend, my soulmate.

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About TheBlackWallflower

I'm just your average unique person. I love to read and write (no surprises there, eh?) and think a lot. I adore Rowling and think Harry Potter should be a religion. I also hate pink. I love fluff generally because it makes me feel intelligent and I love poetry because it makes me feel different. (yes, references.) I'm married to Sirius Black. So I sign myself as The Bitch alarmingly often. Oh, and I love Mr. Darcy. And Jo Longo. And Chandler Bing. And Sherlock. (Yes, I'm a fantard.) And in case you want to drop in a good, or a critical word, feel free to email me: theblackwallflower@gmail.com OR, follow me on Twitter: @WallflowerBlack Enough with the babble. OkBye. View all posts by TheBlackWallflower

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