Memories

I remember something…

It’s so blurry now. I remember it used to be so crisp, so hard, so bright. Now everything is the absence of light – not darkness, but just…

I remember the sun. It was warm and soothing. And grass. And the way the sun gave the sidewalk little bright dots. Or was that the leaves? Or both somehow?

I remember apples. Not the taste, exactly, but the shape – how they fit into my hand, how they were indented at the top. Why were they?

I remember walking. How tired my legs felt some days! I don’t remember how to be tired now. Can it be taught?

I remember laughing. A bubble, it rose up out of me and made a sound, and it was a good sound. The sound of a thousand sounds made to be joyous. How does it happen, again?

I remember rain. It was wet, wasn’t it? I don’t think that’s the part I remember about it, though. I think I can almost remember the smell. Was it sweet?

I do remember something wet, though… … and sad..

I remember something sad.

I remember…. …her hand. Her hand in mine. And how she felt. Warm, soothing. I remember how round her palm felt against mine. I remember how tired she looked – she had been up hours and hours with me. I remember the sound of her voice – it was the sound of a thousand words whispered to me over the years with love. I remember the smell of her, it was sweet, like evening primrose. I remember…. 

Her tears. They were wet. And sad as they slid down her face… and onto mine…

And I remember… letting go.

Of her hand. Of feeling. Of her. Of my life…

I remember now.

I remember dying with you.

But most importantly…

I remember you.

I will always remember you.

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