ruminations on a sunny afternoon
today i am musing upon remembering and forgetting. . .
i think i have an overactive long term memory,
i tell my husband.
that makes sense,
he responds.
because you don't remember anything
short term.
sigh. . .
but i do recall
all the people i went to
high school with
and the conversations
and the feeling
i had sticking my
patent leather feet
(i was so proud of those shoes)
out from the roundabout
in kindergarten. . .
and even the boy who pushed it.
i remember all my bosses
and most of my co-workers
and neighbors from as far
ago as 1956.
i remember all
the things i did on that
trip to wales in 1987
and all the things you did,
too, while we were together.
i remeber not just the face
the names
but the nuances
of conversation
and relationship
the colors
the aromas
the feelings
they wash over me
until i can't sleep
can't concentrate
they say this life will pass before my eyes
when i am about to die
but i feel as though
it washes before
my eyes and drowns me
almost
every single moment
unless
unless
i hold it at bay
meditate
breath
yoga
mind spill
woosh. . ..
i am damning it all up
for a time
so i can LIVE
rather than just FEEL
i eat lunch with my daughter
by the water on a deck
with a striped umbrella
and we have drinks
and cheese sticks
with marinara
and she is sporting two
knobs of dark red hair poms
and many rings
fingers
toes
and we are hashing out again
in the glint of sun from portage bay
the brisk of red from a kayak
graceful as a heron
we are hashing out again
her weird father
his latest phone call
she took today
and i try to analyze
figure out
the whys of 27 years just
ended like a death
no contact
i blame the new mrs oak
or my own harshness
back then
but my daughter sips
cerveza
and says, oh mom
its just that he never thinks of you
i am sorry but he doesn't
and it is a WASH again
over me
all this RUSH of feeling
the fact that an old boss didn't
remember me long enough
to invite me
to a reunion of
coworkers although i recall
every hair of her
biography and
her horses drinking
from an old laundry tub
and her new jersey isms
tee shirt.
he never.
thinks.
of you.
dull thud. . .
oh yes, you went on that trip to italy!
i'd forgotten. . .
oh yes! we had a marriage a family
wow how long ago ?
i's forgotten.
knife to heart.
i don't want these people
experiences
times BACK
mind you
i just want them remembered. . .
to know they mattered
to know my penchant for
filing life away to pull
out and pore over so vivid
again and again'is not an aberration!
my phone never rings
unless it is
the dry cleaner to say
i forgot my sweaters there
for 6 mos.
that is what i forget -
laundry.
i think i have an overactive long term memory,
i tell my husband.
that makes sense,
he responds.
because you don't remember anything
short term.
sigh. . .
but i do recall
all the people i went to
high school with
and the conversations
and the feeling
i had sticking my
patent leather feet
(i was so proud of those shoes)
out from the roundabout
in kindergarten. . .
and even the boy who pushed it.
i remember all my bosses
and most of my co-workers
and neighbors from as far
ago as 1956.
i remember all
the things i did on that
trip to wales in 1987
and all the things you did,
too, while we were together.
i remeber not just the face
the names
but the nuances
of conversation
and relationship
the colors
the aromas
the feelings
they wash over me
until i can't sleep
can't concentrate
they say this life will pass before my eyes
when i am about to die
but i feel as though
it washes before
my eyes and drowns me
almost
every single moment
unless
unless
i hold it at bay
meditate
breath
yoga
mind spill
woosh. . ..
i am damning it all up
for a time
so i can LIVE
rather than just FEEL
i eat lunch with my daughter
by the water on a deck
with a striped umbrella
and we have drinks
and cheese sticks
with marinara
and she is sporting two
knobs of dark red hair poms
and many rings
fingers
toes
and we are hashing out again
in the glint of sun from portage bay
the brisk of red from a kayak
graceful as a heron
we are hashing out again
her weird father
his latest phone call
she took today
and i try to analyze
figure out
the whys of 27 years just
ended like a death
no contact
i blame the new mrs oak
or my own harshness
back then
but my daughter sips
cerveza
and says, oh mom
its just that he never thinks of you
i am sorry but he doesn't
and it is a WASH again
over me
all this RUSH of feeling
the fact that an old boss didn't
remember me long enough
to invite me
to a reunion of
coworkers although i recall
every hair of her
biography and
her horses drinking
from an old laundry tub
and her new jersey isms
tee shirt.
he never.
thinks.
of you.
dull thud. . .
oh yes, you went on that trip to italy!
i'd forgotten. . .
oh yes! we had a marriage a family
wow how long ago ?
i's forgotten.
knife to heart.
i don't want these people
experiences
times BACK
mind you
i just want them remembered. . .
to know they mattered
to know my penchant for
filing life away to pull
out and pore over so vivid
again and again'is not an aberration!
my phone never rings
unless it is
the dry cleaner to say
i forgot my sweaters there
for 6 mos.
that is what i forget -
laundry.