Next time, how about I  be the older one. 
The one who just knows things about everything. 
The one who passes you by with that aloof and cool demeanor. 
You can be the younger one, the more outgoing personality. 
You can do everything in your power to get my attention. 
When will we meet this time? 
Later in life, and not as children? 
Maybe I'll be working at a greasy diner every spare minute to pay for college, 
and you'll come in with paint on your hands. 
To order your usual: Egg salad on marble rye. 
One day I'll pluck up the courage to ask you if you are an artist. 
I won't be able to resist your gregarious, unreserved nature. 
You will fall in love because of my quiet smile, 
and the way you have to pull and tug each small emotion and thought from me.
We'll scrape every dime from everything we have, 
and just pick up and hitchhike.
All the way to Mexico. 
Or anywhere. 
You can do people's portraits, and I'll handle the money. 
You have a way of spending it. 
I have a way of saving it.
We might get married, or not. 
We decide to remain undecided for a while, 
until we can't stand it. 
Or until our friends insist.
You will recite poetry to me,
and I'll sing my vows to you.

We won't do anything conventional, or like our parents. 
We'll thumb our noses at sensibility.
We'll go protest what we can't allow to stand. 
And maybe decide to join the Peace Corps. 
Never to spend another Christmas in snow.
Or maybe we will just re-do this lifetime again. 
And maybe it's not our choice. 
What if we accidentally pass each other by, this next time around? 
Look for the face I had. 
Before the world was made. 
And I'll look for yours.
-Lisa Heggen Carr
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4 thoughts on “Before the World was Made

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