It Was The Summer Of 2013


It was the summer of 2013 and I was young and along in a new city. I had been familiar with the area since I lived just south of it but never had I made my address permanently in your zip code. After the bruising and yelling of schlepping boxes over a few area codes I was settled in my new apartment. The scent of honeysuckles would greet me with the slow moving fountain located in the middle of the courtyard. It gave a welcoming ambience like it was raining, which was something to be desired every now and again in the city of Los Angeles.

It was the summer of 2013 and I was at my lowest. My family had just moved out of my childhood home in Miami to be where the grandkids lived in Salt Lake City. There was no home sweet home but vastly different mountain scenery to now accompany my Christmas morning and Thanksgiving dinner. Many of my best moments were lived in the urban sprawl of Miami-Ft. Lauderdale and now just memories no longer cemented in the 7944 house. My brother recently came home after being hospitalized for a mental breakdown and my parents weren’t answering their phones when it came to my petty issues. I was alone in a new place doing it on my own.

It was the summer of 2013 and I was very unemployed. I was lucky to get random production jobs and babysitting here and there but nothing that wouldn’t still make me wake up checking every job site first thing in the morning. I felt insignificant in a town where people seemingly never worked on anything but a screenplay in a coffeeshop but there I was home alone watering my first cactus and “still finishing the 3rd draft of that script.” I had applied to so many jobs I could write a cover letter in my sleep. I had no money and a lot of time and anxiety to fill the empty space.

It was the summer of 2013 and I made a lot of poor relationship choices. I texted people I shouldn’t have and even sent an embarrassing dream to the wrong number. I pursued situations I should have walked out the door on and even downloaded the Tinder app (for “research”). I decided to be bolder, try new things but nothing really panned out. Everything seemed to disappear into the folder my job applications were also being sent to.

But then it was the summer of 2013 when I met you. The day was just like any other. I went for a run and awkwardly passed streets I didn’t know where they would end and I avoided every sidewalk bump as to not fall flat on my face. I was hungry so I checked out my new grocery store and tried to fit in as best as possible turning down the wrong aisles and passing the frozen breakfast section multiple times. But then I found you. I think we found each other. I think we both knew it was meant to be. You came home with me that day and we spent an entire week together. It was so fast and so passionate I don’t really remember what happened before and after. I just know I had something to look forward to every day, despite my unemployment or losing my childhood home. You were there.

It was the summer of 2013 when I met you, single packages of personal sized pizzas. You were perfect and exactly what I needed to get me acquainted with my new space and new life.

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