It was inevitable that it would be our song. J. lived in Bremerton. I did not, but I was a “level-headed girl with a pretty smile, ideas, and style,” or so I thought. The distance was the problem. When the song came on the radio I would think about how much easier life would be if I could just move to Bremerton.

Looking back, I realize that our two Seattle suburbs were not that far apart, but to a couple of high school students, one of whom didn’t have a car, thirty minutes of driving and a fifteen minute ferry ride was daunting. So we stayed in our separate suburban homes and waited for the song to come onto the alternative rock station that we both liked. We emailed each other often, but only saw each other in person a handful of times. Then I left for college and the emails became less frequent. We met up once the following summer for an afternoon of awkwardness.

Only after a few years and a few more failed relationships did this song became hard for me to hear. Now it reminds me of the girl I was, the girl who preferred her crushes to live far away, the girl who preferred to spend her romantic daydreams on someone she rarely saw, the girl who spent half a summer in Japan but couldn’t be bothered to travel forty-five minutes from home. And despite all that, I had managed to convince myself that there was something there, that the circumstances would align someday and we would live happily ever after. It felt romantic; we were star-crossed.

That girl wanted everything to be perfect. She waited for a move to Bremerton that would never happen, and she was too scared and timid even to kiss J., or ask him to her prom. And when I hear the song now, I’m reminded that there is still part of that girl in me.