If these steps could talk I wonder what they would say?
They might tell the story of when we first sat on them when we met to walk down to your house for the first time, and they might share the secret of how I got here early just to prepare for seeing you again
What if they tell the story of last thanksgiving when I cried over some boy and you snuck out and came in the dark to be with me. You held me while I cried. You picked me up and dusted me off and told me I would be ok
The stairs might spill the time we snuck out and kissed in the middle of the night, daring ourselves to be caught, not caring because we were together
Maybe they could tell the world about the time we sat together and just cried because we were happy to have found each other. Because we were terribly scared of the future, because we were so in love and had no idea what to do about it
Or what if they told this story, the one of me sitting here alone for the first time not expecting you to come. Not expecting a rock to be thrown, or hug to be given. No kiss to be shared, no tears but my own. Maybe this is the last memory these stairs will have to keep
Maybe they will be relieved to be free of whatever we are doing that day, or maybe they will long for another chance at a lasting summer romance.