Album‎ > ‎

Dear Megan

Dear Megan, 

You were my best friend in the third grade, until I heard the news that you were going to have to move away.
I took my bike and pedaled over, basket empty, tassels flying, upright over my banana seat, I’m squinting hard to keep from crying, “Why is my best friend leaving?” 

Dear Megan

You are my best friend in the third grade. So I’ve been looking at the map and reading up and I really am afraid. I said in California they’ve got earthquakes and when the big one hits it might break off into the ocean where there are sharks – we both saw Jaws – so why is my best friend leaving?”

Will you be a California girl, golden tan and sun bleached curls? Will you hang out on the beach with surfer dudes in your bikini? Valley talk is on its way – what, like, will you have to say being a California girl?

Dear Megan

I don’t know what made me think of you. Maybe it’s our flared jeans back in style, or those shirts made of velour. Well, California is still there, and so I hope you are somewhere; you didn’t slip into the ocean — I guess they disproved that notion a while ago.

Are you still a California girl, golden tan and sun bleached curls? Did you grow up on the beach with surfer dudes in your bikini? Valley talk it came and went – where, like, has your time been spent? Are you a California girl?

Are you still a California girl, golden tan and sun bleached curls? Did you ever move back east, maybe to get your own degree? Did you take somebody’s name?  Some part of us must be the same. Are you a California girl?

Dear Megan

You were my best friend in the third grade.