I Still Pray For You

“Friends come in and out of our lives, like busboys in a restaurant”. – Stephen King, The Body

I’ve been having recurring dreams that take place on the swing set of my childhood backyard. The people who pass through each dream are always different, but the swing set and that yard remain the same. Each face is familiar: a childhood friend I once confided in and loved with my whole heart.

All of you are ghosts now, just stopping by for a visit. In these dreams, we are always happy and thankful to see each other. We hug hello and talk about what happened to us; why we fell apart, and why we can’t stand the sight of each other awake. I can’t help but wonder if any of you ever dream of me, too.

I still pray for you.

If we ever occupied each other’s orbit, with nights spent talking in wide-eyed astonishment about the wonders of the world and futures yet to come, please know that I still think of you. I still check in on you on social media, or when I find myself in your part of town where we spent so much of our childhood. Even if you don’t live there anymore, I can still see our ghosts sitting on the roof of that house, or in that abandoned parking lot at the end of the street. I can still see us running through sprinklers in that backyard. I can still remember which pillowcases we would lay awake crying in to on nights when this life was too much. I remember it all.

I still pray for you.

I’m still begging my bedroom ceiling and everything beyond it to bless you with happiness. I’m still hoping that all of those crazy, beautiful dreams that haunted that cavity in your chest when we were 14, 18, and 22 finally came true. I’m still praying that you get everything you deserve. I’m hoping karma skips you and forgives you, just as I already have for the scars you left on my back.

I hope you’re happy. I really do. I hope you step out of your own way and give this world the very best of you.

I hope you think of me on occasion,

because I’ve never stopped loving you.