Earlier today, I had a ten minute phone conversation with Caitlin. She’s one of my favorite people in the world. I haven’t seen Caitlin since I sat by her in Royce Hall when we were at the Comm. ceremony together. We both laughed about how we didn’t want to be there and when it was finally time to go up on stage, we were still laughing. I had dropped my note card with my name on the ground and that was so hilarious to us for no reason at all. Everything was funny that morning- in the good and bad way. In the way that things aren’t supposed to be funny.
I didn’t expect that day to be the last time I saw Caitlin. I don’t know what I expected but whatever it was, it wasn’t that. I knew that she wouldn’t be down the street from me and going to in-n-out for a midnight cheeseburger wasn’t going to be a usual weeknight event for us anymore. Regular things would become irregular or worse, non-existent.
I haven’t seen Caitlin since that day and have maybe talked to her a handful of times.
Four, actually. Maybe five.
I love that she moved back to the city because I really do think people have a place and that is her place. She reminds me of the city and likewise, the city reminds me of her; I adore both. I think about the Madame Bovary quote and dancing to Florence and all the brie we consumed and the pretty antique furniture in her old room and the minimalistic calendar and the day I came over and she was spraypainting her chair white.
I really loved that day simply because of that. Because of that white chair.
