Thursday, June 28, 2012

Watching You Walk Away.

Dear Emily Broyles,

As I said goodbye to you this morning, the song "What Hurts the Most" by Rascal Flatts began to play softly, sadly in my head.
Actually, it wasn't the whole song; it was only the four words -- watching you walk away.
Yup.  Just those four words were stuck on repeat on the discman in my head.
And days later, it's still playing.
{Yes, I too think this is odd because mostly big moments in our relationship are defined solely by Taylor Swift songs.}

Miss you more than going to the opera, photo shoots, and watermelon in raki shots.
Miss talking about boys instead of teaching too.
Miss absinthe ice cream, your cowboy boots, and your tricks to try to get me to tour a concentration camp.
I also miss the Alans.

Love and Love,

PS :( This face expresses my feelings about you leaving.


  1. Ahhhh I love it! And I miss you more than I miss hoarding chocolate bars!

  2. But maybe you miss me less than you missed eating real carmel-chocolate bars while in Pristina.
    PS My toothbrush says hi.