Sarah

in like 6th grade my class went on a field trip into the forest to do some outside learning — i don’t remember anything we did out there besides wear shorts and walk around in complexly organized groups and get stung by mosquitos and maybe learn about trees or something -- the main thing i remember about this trip is that on the long ride back home, back to our middle school in westerly, rhode island, i sat on the bus thinking intensely of Sarah the whole time. 

she sat a few rows ahead of me, fast asleep alone in a leather bus seat and for some reason my 6th-grade-year-old self decided that now was the perfect time to fantasize about walking a few rows up there and sitting next to her and maybe holding her hand or laying my head on hers or telling her that I liked her or something. these thoughts assaulted me then, they didn’t feel good and they didn’t result in any action and they have haunted me throughout my entire life. 

something about being far from home made the urge to confess to my current female obsession suddenly unbearable. just about every field trip we went on that year, that familiar dread came creeping in — but never like it did on that night on that bus. being far from home and it being nighttime made it seem fated. i don’t know why. this was long before i had any knowledge about what boys and girls did with each other. 

sitting at this library, at this big nice wooden table, straight across from a girl i do not know and will never know because there is no reason to initiate conversation, interrupt her, possibly make her feel not okay, is bringing back that feeling of dread i felt when i was like 9 on the bus dreaming about Sarah.