I don’t know if it was important to her or not, but she – my aunt Sandy, was in fact crowned the Dairy Princess. She was probably just a teenager. It’s odd to think of adults in your life as young. To think of them having hopes and dreams. To be sashed in victory, and hearts broken later. But they are human. These aunts and uncles. These grandparents and parents.

I remember doing the math of when my Uncle Ron was born, and when my grandparents got married. My grandma telling me how she kissed a boy behind the Alexandria motel. Was it grandpa? I still see her smiling.

I earned a box full of trophies in high school for sports. I have no idea what happened to them. And I don’t really care. Yesterday, one of those girls from a high school team sent me a message. A girl that got the lyrics wrong to the song Beast of Burden by The Rolling Stones, returning on the team bus from an away game. This girl emailed me a bit of her broken heart from a brand new loss. We are still connected. I suppose this is the trophy that I will keep forever. These connections.

The Alexandria Motel is no longer a Motel. But stolen kisses live on. Sashes and trophies long gone. Friendships remain. How easy they are to carry in my heart. Never lost. What remains.