notes from the observatory (part 2)

Charlene and Me, 1982

Once, everything you needed fit into a purse the color of your grandmother’s
caramels. Inside, a thin wallet with a single dollar bill and a library card.
A stick of chewing gum. A best friend was anyone who got on their bike
and rode alongside you. In the span of an afternoon, you were inseparable.
Before dinner, you let each other go. This was its own act of kindness. Summer, everything slowed to first gear, then…