At church this morning I passed around a collection plate to
gather up the scraps of all the people I have known. The bowl was silver and
its size was like that of space. Inside, I found: a hike through a hailstorm in
Colorado where blue jays where eating other bird’s babies; I found an evening
spent from midnight till morning talking about the way that I dreamed of
divinity; I found a piece of a tetherball string, still wound tightly around a
silver pole; I found a pocket of gummi worms, unopened, thrown in the trash can
at recess; I found a small side yard where I dug for dinosaur bones; I found a
picture with the words I love you written across the top; I found tears and
tears, until I was swimming through all the tears, trying to remember why we
are all such bizarre puzzles; I found a slip of paper with someone’s e-mail on
it that I threw in the trash; I found a cabin in the woods with a couch and a
blanket; I found a picture of you standing with me in the same shirt I wore
only two weeks ago, but it was more than a decade ago; I found that the years
start to run together like water that you can’t separate out the moments that
you used to; I found pictures of people in wedding dresses and tuxedos, people
that I used to know, and I smiled at their happy faces, because they made me
happy when I knew them; I found a picture of San Francisco, stiff breezes off
the bay, always so damn cold, and inside the picture was another picture of a
hospital, and inside that hospital a memory of people who are now dust; I found
an evening in the mountains of Santa Barbara, and a sunrise too; I found a
picture of five of us sitting in a room talking about the ways in which we had
failed, the ways in which we’d like to succeed; I found a picture of a piano
and green couches; I found a picture of a mountain trail, pine trees and old
bear scat; I found a picture of the ocean, of your hand in mine, before we
glided together. I found a picture of a tower in Italy, a winding staircase
leading to a view of some ancient city.
I spent the evening afterward, sorting all these pictures
into specific piles.
Afternoons that could have lasted forever.
Times I went to the ocean.
Women that I have loved.
Women that I did not have the time to get around to loving.
People that I once knew.
People that I used to know and wish I still knew.
Avenues that I have walked down.
Avenues that I wish I had walked down.
Pictures of places that I am not remembering properly.
Times I drank wine in the afternoon and watched rain fall on cobble stones.
Times I drank wine and danced until 2 A.M.
Times I spent a few hours with the many people that I have loved.
After I was done organizing these moments, I wrote them all
down on the computer screen, which flickered, in and out just like memory does.
The thing is, I know that thousands, millions, far more numerous than the
stars, are still missing. I want you to know that I’m trying to remember all of
you, despite the futility of it. I’m reaching out to the people I have known
and the people I will know. I miss all of you already, so the next time you see
me, let’s meet, not was if we were strangers, but as people who have, for
longer than they can remember, been very much in love.
Elegant!
ReplyDeletei appreciate the way you made piles..cataloged your photos
ReplyDeleteone more pile for .."why did i take this photo"
what was the relevancy at that moment..
as you encounter more people, more places, and more memories the sad truth is..the brain is on a downward spiral in terms of remembering all those people, places, tastes, and
ReplyDeletephotogenic moments
as we grow older what we can encompass grows smaller..
So perfect. Thank you.
ReplyDelete