Class: Expository Writing
Assignment: Personal Narrative; the day Bryan and I made dinner for my parents and cup pies.
Date Written: December 8th, 2008
Title: Without Restraint
Summary: At your own foolishness and the romantic default of your mind, you laugh without restraint because you’ve never known another way.
In high school, most meet someone romantically significant who they remember for most of their lives — for one reason or another, be it good or bad. You feel lucky that you’ve finally found that someone although the tension and the terror of how the relationship will result is something that weighs on your mind constantly. Being liked back seems like such a fairytale concept by now. You are aware that there are a number of decades ahead of you and that these collective 365 days will be nearly insignificant in twenty years, but still it stands, this feeling of worthiness. In all honesty, you could mistake this for a dream if the surroundings weren’t so undeniably realistic. Sitting in a shopping cart, you’re in a position you haven’t been in since your age was a single digit and you’re pushed faster that you ever dreamed of then. His pounding footsteps behind you, the rattling of the shaky wheels, the splats of raindrops on nearby windshields, and the rush of wind all combine in a Meijer’s parking lot and remind you somehow of that legendary scene in the Titanic. Instead of the actual quote (because really, you remember next to nothing from the movie itself) the line “Never let go, Rose” resounds in your mind and “Rose” is replaced by a much more masculine name. At your own foolishness and the romantic default of your mind, you laugh without restraint because you’ve never known another way.
Later that day, it’s raining harder. It’s less than a downpour yet more than a sprinkle, an intensity somewhere in the middle. Regardless, you both ignore it and begin to walk to the front of your neighborhood on a quest for ice cream that was started only to waste time. It’s cold and the crisp, clean air that follows rain only intensifies the chill thus both pairs of hands stay in their respective owner’s pockets as often as possible. An umbrella is shared and shoulders occasionally bump. Rather than it being conceptual, that fairytale aspect now seems almost factual. The person who you thought impossible to win over was now close enough to touch in a way you had previously accepted as forever a product of imagination. If you only had enough courage, were more assertive, lacked some self-doubt, then his consistently warm, much larger hand could cover your smaller, colder one. You are, however, conscious of your cowardice, shyness, and skepticism and keep your hands at your side.
For now, you settle with the brief collisions of your shoulder with his and the suppressed, dull tingle of nervousness that runs like lightning through your body. They serve as a reminder that you have value and that not quite everything you imagined to be impossible actually is. You smile warmly to yourself in acceptance and avoid his eyes in fear of questioning, not feeling the urge to explain yourself just yet. Though, when he makes you laugh a few moments later, you do so harder than you probably should have, unintentionally releasing that formerly withheld happiness. Without restraint.