I made this book back in high school, a black thing with college pages filled with poems, pictures and the various effluvia of the person I was back then. I found tiny references to things long forgotten: phrases, characters, pictures, poems etc. But the thing living in those pages which gave me such a start was the reminders of her. Her, or she, was the girl I dated for about four years. The girl I was with when Meg died; the girl I was with when we went to college; the girl I was with when the the towers came down; the one I did drugs with and drew on walls; the one that saw the drawings painted over.
That book has two pictures of her pasted down, though those I had memorized. The striking thing was the flood of individual memories which came back. I had forgotten what we were like, and what we did, the high energy of the situation. It was nice to walk back in that memory. It’s not that I miss her, or that I’d want her back; those people are long gone. It’s more that I liked having re tasted the energy of youthful love and longing.
Of course I emailed her and made a complete ass of myself… just keeping myself open and honest with you, my fine readers.