Yellow again.

Yellow. I couldn’t help but think of him as David and I were driving through parts of Wyoming. I was dozing off and that’s usually when half forgotten memories strike. That’s what Yellow mostly is right now. A half forgotten memory.


We had gone on a road trip, 6 people total. Yellow and the German.  (I've never mentioned the German before, but oddly enough they shared the same name.  It was the best way to differentiate between the two in conversation.  One was Yellow, the other the German... on and he wasn't really German.) YellowI was head over heels for. The German I just had fun with. It was a 10 day road trip to Nauvoo and back. We were checking out all the church history sights and visiting some people from my mission. I had invited Yellow to come and my little twitterpated heart was just thrilled as could be that he said yes. Because we had a “thing”. It was something that didn’t need words. It was conveyed in a glance, a touch here and there. The occasional opening of our souls.. or was that just my soul? I was sure he felt the same way for me as I felt for him. No need to clarify, to vocalize. This was born of instinct, of need. Clarification would just muddy the waters.

Wyoming reminded me of the trip back. The portion without Yellow. He decided to catch a train and try to make his way to New York and visit Palmyra and the rest of the church sites there. He was like that. Kind of a free spirit. He seemed to think differently than everyone else. For me it was part of his charm.

The German, the one that I had fun with, the one that I actually did talk with… he tried to warn me. He told me to be careful with Yellow. I hardly remember what he said, I mostly thought it was kind of rude on his part but endearing at the same time. I thought he was trying to be a protective older brother even though he was younger than me.

I found out later that Yellow didn’t really catch the train to go to Palmyra. He went to Chicago. There was a girl there that he met during the road trip that he thought might be “the one”. He let me get up early and see him off at the train station with a supportive but disappointed heart. He let me hug him and wish him well. He gave no indications.

That summed up a lot of our relationship. I was there for him. To give him a boost when he needed it. To be that faithful supporter, the one that laughed at semi-funny jokes. The shoulder to lean on. That was me. Always giving but never getting in return.

Sadly it wasn’t until quite a bit later that in the two years that we had known each other that I realized that he still didn’t know me. After all that time, all those conversations, he still didn’t know the first thing about me.