today, i read an article about a food truck going out of business. we ate there when we took my

parents to the botanic garden. i never thought i would take my parents anywhere with a man i

was dating. the day was so ordinary, but it has stuck with me for the last two years. my religious

parents and their gay son, laughing and walking around with you.

my mom seemed so smitten with you. i wish i knew what was going through her mind when she

was with you. she said she wrote you a letter after the visit, but it got lost in the mail. i think i

will wonder about that letter for the rest of my life.

i cried when i read about the food truck. the food was fine. i don’t think i’ve gone back to them

since that day in the garden. but i always see them and think about that day, about you.

it feels like nothing has changed until i turn around, and i realize that everything has. it’s been a

year since you left memphis. two years since we broke up for the second time. i’ve moved twice.

i’ve gotten a new job. started and ended other part time jobs. i’ve celebrated birthdays and

engagements and weddings and babies. i’ve visited you, and you’ve visited me. but every time

we’ve tried to come back together, it has only felt like an echo of the world we once created.

the people and the places have changed. we have changed. the world has continued to move on

around me, and you are no exception.

there will be more food trucks, i’m sure. people and places will continue to come and go. i am

sure that i have not seen you for the last time. and maybe, despite the change we have been

through, we will realize that we have finally evolved into the right people for each other.

i’m not sure if i can allow myself to leave that door open. i am not sure if you can ever fully

recreate what was. but really and ultimately and truly; i’m not sure if i should be spiraling this

much about barbecue chicken nachos.

i cried about the food truck. i laughed at myself for crying about the food truck. and then i went

about my day.