Summer Memories

This is a Red Writing Hood prompt - it's fiction, so you may want to pass and just read about my hatred of GP again, if you want.  Or check out Beckham's ass - they're both in the sidebar.  

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Hey, 

Remember that time we went to the lake? And you kept trying to get that perfect picture of someone diving off the dock?  Where they'd be in the air, mid-arc, and in shadow, too, so they looked all moody?

I found that packet of pictures - they were stuck together from the damp in a box of old beach stuff. Do you think Purple Heart would even want a beach towel that smells like mold? Probably not, right?

Anyway, I found the pictures and tried to pry them apart.  That mostly worked, except sometimes the backing of one picture would stay stuck to the front of the one behind it and it usually managed to obscure someone's face.  I can guess some of the people, but I think you'd be better at putting names and faces together.  You always were better at keeping track of stuff.  And people.  Hey, do you remember Kyle? What the hell happened to him?  Did he fall off the face of the earth?  The last thing I remember was hearing that he was going to join the army.  Did he end up doing that? 

I keep running into your mom.  She’s doing well – kind of surprised to see me, like I’m not supposed to be here.  I guess I’m not, really.  That was never the plan. You and me, together forever, shaking the dust of this town off of our shoes, or however that hokey saying goes.  You’d probably remember that, too.

I just wanted to send these along to you.  I know that you’d have better memories of that weekend – better recall, more pleasant thoughts.  Isn’t that the weekend you and Bridget hooked up?  I seem to remember someone telling me that, at your wedding.  I guess they didn’t realize that that was the weekend we were supposed to be planning our lives together. 

Or maybe we did, just not with each other.