Tag Archives: friendship

Seven day song challenge / Melanie Kristy / Sugar Sugar

When you’re friends with someone for 26 years weird things connect you in ways that sometimes need explaining. Shaylin and I are connected by orange traffic cones, doors, Dumbo and amongst many other things: Sugar Sugar by The Archies. When I turned eleven I was allowed to take two friends to the movies. We chose Now & Then and the movie quickly became our anthem. Shaylin and I spent summers pretending to be Sam and Roberta and conquering the streets of Carver one our bicycles. We highlighted roads we ventured down in our Town of Carver maps. In the bogs behind my house we found our 

In sixth grade we performed Sugar Sugar in the sixth grade lip sync. Choreographed dancing and pretend singing in an elementary school auditorium.

There were lots of songs in Now and Then. We learned them quickly with the help of my soundtrack, and somehow Sugar Sugar was the song that stuck the most. It became part of the soundtrack of our friendship.

Fast forward to 2011, five years ago, I was the maid of honor in Shaylin’s wedding. I had the DJ play Sugar Sugar for her (us) and we danced like we had danced all night. 


Melanie Kristy

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Genevieve’s Week 15: Julia

Julia, I haven’t seen you since October 2009
when we slipped into the balcony booth at Lalo’s
and filled our stomachs with steaming bowls
of caldo de pollo. We eyed the margarita pitchers
and you licked your fingers clean and told me
all about the new boy you were dating, how you
got caught at a bar with a fake ID, what streaks
of color you were going to put into your hair

and by the time we’d paid the bill, the city
was blue with night and dark with the shadows
of passing strangers, dusky flames lighting up their
faces, lengthening the crevices beneath their tired eyes.
I waited with you until the #8 bus came and I wrapped
my arms around your faded gray hoodie, Julia, and you were
warm beneath it – warm with laughter, with talk, with
the plans that we’d made for an Amelie movie night
complete with vodka and popcorn, pink-frosted cupcakes.

No, Julia, I haven’t seen you since 2009 because
we stopped catching one another on the train
and you stopped coming to class and answering my texts.
I dyed my hair, too. I got wasted at parties. I fell
in and out and into love again fully, haphazardly,
relinquishing nothing, greedy for absolutely everything,
everything, everything – especially your little stake
on loveliness, the claim you held over everyone’s
hearts. You were undeniably magnetic, Julia,

but it wasn’t because you promised me that, with your
connections, we could sneak into any rock concert, and
it wasn’t because you could spew out sentences of
perfect German on command. It was because you simply were.
You, unadulterated, obviously flawed, take it or leave it,
love it or hate it. The soft light I found in your eyes
called me and radiated outwards, a lighthouse yearning
for closeness in the whirlwind midst of shattering storms.
It still calls me, Julia. Your name, your voice,

the surety in your laugh beckons me, and it watches me as
I toss back and forth and try to sleep, as I try not to think about you.
Are you still holding the world together with invisible string?
I haven’t seen you since 2009 but it doesn’t matter because
you are in every bowl of soup and every margarita pitcher.
Julia, love, you are in the warmth found after rain.

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