Three T-shirts

Paige Lorell has too many t-shirts to count. Most of them are formfitting, and short enough to show off her nicely tanned midriff; but three are not. Three are the nasty, too-long, short sleeves down to your elbows unisex kind. One is white, one is black, and one is blue, but all three are littered with checkmarks. You see Paige Lorell, the five foot six blond, cheerleader, and beauty queen extraordinaire only dates jocks.

She understands sports only vaguely, just enough to know when to cheer, so the sport they play doesn’t really matter.
Her freshman year the football team made it to playoffs, so the white t-shirt reads “Brighton High school Bunnies Varsity football team state play-offs ‘05”; the back of the t-shirt lists the names of all the varsity football players. The white shirt has fifteen checkmarks.

A similar event happened her sophomore year with the baseball team, so the black shirt reads “Brighton high school Bunnies Varsity baseball team state play-offs ‘06”; the back lists all the varsity baseball players. The black shirt has five checkmarks.

The blue t-shirt is from her junior year. This one reads “BHS Bunnies Varsity Basketball team state play-offs ‘07” and has only eight check marks on the back.
Today she goes to her closet, and silver sharpie in hand she draws a neat checkmark next to number 15, Brian McKay of the baseball team on the black t-shirt. She broke up with Brian last night, and their two week relationship has temporarily tired her of baseball players. Because she and Brian are officially over, it’s time for what she has fondly nicknamed her boyfriend shopping routine.

With Brian now forever banished from her mind, she picks up the white and blue t-shirts. She looks between the two thoughtfully for a moment before deciding on number 36, Michael Larson of the football team. She tosses the t-shirts back onto their shelf, then closes her closet door and walks quickly to her drawers. She reaches them, opens the top one and pulls out a large box. The box contains three bundles of index cards: one for football players, one for baseball players, and one for basketball players. Each card contains a small profile of each player on the three teams, including name, picture and phone number. They are alphabetically organized so she finds Michaels’s card and looks at her calendar thoughtfully. “I’ll give him a week” she says to herself. Then she picks up the phone and dials his number.

In exactly a week she’s back in her closet, repeating the routine. After all, this is her junior year and she still has eighty six checkmarks to go. Paige Lorell is a cheerleader, with a mission.

Five Minutes Ago

Five Minutes Ago

He picked up the phone,
just said hello.
A sob of relief, a quiet he's ok.
A long awkward silence.
Then the earth shaking words
there's been an accident.
The phone drops from his hand
but he doesn't care.

No it can't be he says to himself.
Cause just five minutes ago,
we stood under that tree.
Just five minutes ago,
she held my hand.
Just five minutes ago,
I hugged her goodbye.
Then five minutes ago
she jumped in her car,
and drove on down the road.
Not knowing or caring
that hug was her last.

Another young boy had too much too drink.
Then five minutes ago
he jumped in his car,
and sped on down the road
not knowing ore caring
this night was his last.

A stupid decision, an innocent victim.
Two broken bodies, lying on stretchers.
Both carted away from all they once had.
No more wind in their hair,
no more sun on their face.
Cause five minutes ago God cut to the chase,
and took them both home
each one to their place.
Neither one knowing
that breath was their last.

Why did I live when he took her away?
She'll never laugh again.
She'll never dance again.
Her smile, her face.
A million things lost, cause that boy
had to drive.

If only, if only that drive wasn't her last!
I'd hug her, I'd hold her,
If only if only this night wasn't her last!
Two lives and two dreams,
both terribly wasted.
Only because that first sip
wasn't his last, only because
that boy had to drive.

How does one live,
move on and
forgive?
When that hug was her last,
When that wave was goodbye,
When that boy was stupid,
and that girl is dead?
How can I live, laugh and love
when an angel now stands,
Where five minutes ago,
he last held her hand?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tomorrow they'll come, put them both in a box.
Then bury them deep, far below the earth's crust.
Think of the friends, the family all those they loved.
But most of all think of those poor wasted lives.
Then measure your dreams, your hopes and your wishes.
Don't make that trade, cause whatever you've got
it's so so much better than a box in the dirt.
Think of the sun shine, the wind on your face.
It's a beautiful day but it could be her last.