I haven't seen Ali in 37 days. I miss the way her car smells. That time she started interpretive dancing to fun. while driving. And later that same night, Adele. And when she touched my face and I licked her hand, a new rule was created; "NO LICKING THE DRIVER, Katie."
I miss how it was okay for me to come to her house at 6:30 in the morning and sleep on the basement couch until we left for church. I miss impromptu movie Sundays that turned into impromptu Sunday sleepovers. I miss that time when we were sitting next to each other on the couch (remember this, Ali?), my head on her shoulder, and she started giggling when my eyelashes tickled her arm. I miss her.
I miss summer nights at my grandma's bunkhouse. A tradition three summers long, we would watch movies and swim in the middle of the night. We watched the Justin Bieber movie out there and briefly fell in love. I kept her and Anna up at 5am when I was jetlagging from Jordan, she and Shaina kept us up when they were jetlagging from Central Asia. I miss the laughter.
I miss blaring One Direction in the car. And when we listened to their song Moments the entire way home- six times, on repeat.
I miss how we would say, okay, we're exhausted, it's time to go to sleep, and stay up talking for another two hours. I miss how when she got really sleepy, she would talk on and on until finally I would tell her to keep talking, but I wasn't going to respond anymore. How, "shut up, Ali," was a normal sentence at 3am. I miss the night we both woke up because I started rubbing her neck in my sleep.
I miss her family and their hospitality. I miss knowing that my second family is only half an hour away. I miss that one night, when I got lost on my way home, and both her parents called and texted me to make sure I was okay.
I miss you, Ali.
I haven't seen him in exactly two weeks. When he turned to hug me before stepping into the car and driving away for Arizona, my face pinched up and I widened my eyes to keep from crying. "Are you going to cry?" he asked. I think he was surprised. Instead of answering, I buried my head in his shoulder (remember those few weeks back in 8th grade when I was taller than you?) and sobbed. He held on tight. And finally when I pulled away, I sob-laughed and told him I smeared mascara on his shoulder. So our goodbye was full of tears, and laughing, and the longest hug.
I miss him. I miss wrestling on the couch, shrieking and laughing until I cried. I miss him saying, "let's go on an adventure!" and then- only going to get gas. I miss the way he would make fun of me, my sneezing and my height. I miss the tickling. Something I never thought I'd say, but I miss the tickling. No one tickles me anymore, expect Abigail, sometimes. I miss bribing him to rub my neck when I'd slept on it wrong. I miss singing the Adventure Time theme song, "Joseph the dog and Katie the human!" and "No! I'm the human, you're the dog."
I miss playing hide-and-seek in Ikea. I miss those long drives to Taylor, and me falling asleep and him letting me even though I know it must have been boring. I miss Kevin. You don't know Kevin, it's a him-and-I joke.
I miss the time Mom and Dad went to Alaska for a week, leaving me and him in charge. That was the time he smacked his head into my head and split my forehead open.
I miss the way he knows more Dutch than I do, and yet never speaks it.
I miss the way his mouth was always slightly open when he lied.
I miss how once he told me, "You're the April Ludgate to my Andy Dwyer- expect before they started dating and got married."I miss how once he said, "If I'm really old, like 80, and neither of us are married, let's get a house together, okay?"
I miss watching endless episodes of The Office together and eating popsicles.
I miss him calling me chica, and how after I told him I don't like being called Katherine, that's all he called me for a week. I don't mind Katherine so much anymore.
I miss waiting tables with him, how if I was busy with too many tables, I could always count on him for refills or delivering food or bussing tables. I miss always competing with him for tips, and how three times in the same night, I told his tables at the register about our competition, which resulted in him getting better tips.
I miss how he would wait for me around corners when I went up to bed at night, and laugh and laugh when I screamed. How he didn't stop even after I accidentally punched him in the face that one time.
I miss arguing with him about whose turn it was to drive, and how the first thing he said when John Green stepped out at the Indy Reads Event was, "All I can think of is duh-duh-duh honey badger!" When he read The Fault in Our Stars, and told me that John Green screwed over every other guy because they can never compare to Augustus; I miss that.
I miss that from now on, I won't be a part of his daily life. When he comes home for Christmas, he'll reference stories and experiences that I only know second-hand. I hate getting a text saying, "I'm going swimming with a girl tomorrow," and not knowing the girl he's talking about.
I miss impromptu movie Sundays at Ali's house with him, all three of us piled on the couch in the basement. He would always start tickling the both of us, and it usually ended with both Ali and I mad because we couldn't watch the movie. And he would sit on the floor and eat blueberries while he pouted until eventually we all calmed down and he came back to the couch.
I miss him. I miss seeing him everyday.
I'll see Ali in a few weeks, and everything will go back to normal. But Joseph- it won't ever be the same again, and that is what I miss most.
