Evelyn (Poetry and Visual Arts Editor)

July 31, 2017

Hey, Ev, how are you I haven’t talked to you in a while. Like a long time. I remember 366 days ago, a few days after you got back from camp, you came over to my house. That night was amazing. I think we only slept for an hour and we both had work the next day.

You brought your iPad and I read an essay. It was about Him. Sometimes it's hard to know what you're thinking. You are closed off to the rest of the world. But I am glad you picked up that night of December 22, 2016, and we just talked. Just sip terrible Starbucks drive-through hot chocolate and cry. But the first time it was Caribou, actually frozen coffee drinks that taste like coffee.

I know you are more than Him. I think the shock from your best friend betraying you helped you see who is terrible and who is not. We need to talk again. I mean come on we haven’t talked lazily about Cats, Coffee, Connor Franta, or Chris Colfer in the dark in months. We haven’t shared a burrito bowl minutes before Chipotle closing since the middle of the third trimester. We haven’t seen each other since the third to last day of school. The last time we talked in person you were sixteen.

That night at my house was amazing. Full of ice coffee and brownies and TV shows made for kids five years younger than us. I loved listening to it all. Every detail about how it was. How you and your friends played endless games all week. How you jumped off the camp raft in a dress with a guy much more deserving of you. And even though, just in that night, you drank too much coffee for someone with your heart condition, I know you will be alright.

I loved sitting in the dark and making mac and cheese as we danced to the theme songs to not only Girl Meets World but also One Tree Hill. and how we made iced coffee at one am. And how when we finally decided we should stop watching tv and we should try to get at least two hours of sleep we stayed up. But oh no, we just blasted Twenty One Pilots and sang until the sun came up. You slept four hours. I slept three and I think it's because it was not my room or maybe I was just too hyped on coffee or maybe it was my dog kicking us in the bed. Once you got up and we made cheesy eggs which you promised you would not burn (Spoiler Alert: you did). That’s beside the point (they were really good, by the way). And then your mom picked you up.

I keep thinking about that night and then I remember that we didn’t drive then. Isn’t that

weird? How I just called one night and your dad had to drive you over. Instead of you jumping in your car that just amplifies the fact you are a mom on the inside and drive yourself.



Big image


Evelyn is a Poetry and Visual Arts Editor of Boom Site. She is a junior in high school and is active in the theater and choir departments at her school. She has been writing stories since she was young. She writes poetry and prose and is involved with many creative arts endeavors. Her favorite books include Looking for Alaska by John Green, Love, Rosie by Cecelia Ahern, and A Separate Peace by John Knowles.