One day I may not know you, my friend, may not know who you are, not as already I don’t know people I have loved who have made themselves strangers or whom I have made strangers, but as if you truly were a stranger–maybe you’re standing on the platform and I am on some train rushing past, following that wind that comes before the train, or you are someone I take a shine to in a grocery store, or you’re someone in a crowd crossing the street and I feel a pang of almost recognition but I think oh it’s just my mind.
One day I may not know you, but I may see you and have that feeling of standing in the middle of a room and wondering why I came there. Right now it feels as if I am already only almost remembering you. If you pass down this road too, we may meet one day and neither of us will remember who we are–you think you will know but I won’t, I think I will know but you won’t, we’ll each wonder what happened to the other’s memory.
Sometimes in a cascade of not remembering little things, I think maybe there’s something larger, something more significant that I really need to remember, something that Continue reading