I haven't written much for a while. When I was in grad school, I was reading 2-3 books a week and writing trees' worth of papers, so that part of my brain was always active. Nowadays, I don't know--I guess it's more about worrying about finances, bills, insurance, work, rent, etc. Grownup stuff. I'm currently watching 13 going on 30 and just realized I'll be 30 this year. 30. I'll be 30. 30.

Anyway, I spent a while on the phone trying to get my car insurance lowered, and talking about my driving history brought back a memory about 14 years ago...a local in our hometown (I think he might've actually been mayor or something at some point) hit my poor 87 Nova with his half-ton pickup. I didn't get hurt but the side was all denty. This was before cell phones, so I was trying to remember how my parents found out...someone came by...someone from school--oh yeah, it was Robby*. He was on his bike I think, and he rode down to my house to let them know what happened and that I was ok.

Robby didn't fit in. Like everyone I went to school with, I had known him since kindergarten. There was nothing abnormal about him, although he had very white blond eyebrows. He tried to be a good athlete. He was a nice guy. He wasn't popular. Kinda dorky. There's a great picture in our yearbook of him throwing a pie in a teacher's face. I remember another time he came up to my house and asked if he could take me to Dairy Queen for some ice cream. I was really nice about it, unlike some girls I went to school with, but I didn't have any romantic feelings for him. Shortly after my then-boyfriend dumped me (it's damaging to get dumped by a popular guy when you're 15), I was talking to Robbby and feeling horrible. It was at a high school football game, probably a few weeks before or after the accident. We were standing near the edge of the bleachers, and he was trying to make me feel better. At that moment, someone's spit dropped down onto my shoulder (an accident, I hope), and I burst into tears. I could tell Robby felt for me, that he would've done anything to make it better. He had a good heart.

Robby ended his life about 7 years ago, maybe 8. He could never live up to the expectations he felt so keenly. I don't know all the specifics, I probably hadn't seen him for at least the last 4 years before then, having graduated and gone to college. He left a note, checked into a hotel about an hour away, knocked out the ceiling, and tied a rope around the I beam. He was the first person I knew to do away with himself.

I think about Robby randomly. I didn't know him extremely well. I don't know why his death has stuck with me, like a spectre of regret. He was always there, always around, just like everyone else in a small town. His unexpected exit made death seem closer and more possible than I ever thought about. Tragic is too cliche a word. I just feel bad about Robby. He didn't even get close to 30. The last time I was home, I went to eat lunch with my 10 year old niece, and sitting next to her was Robby's daughter. Same eyebrows.