boxing day

That part of my brain which collects and time stamps memories must be growing a little faulty, so much has happened this year and I can barely keep track of the intermittent intertwining of both the special and the mundane. As always it levels out and I am able to choose certain specifics. Why choose to archive you ask? Especially since seasoned readers realize that I often extol the immediacy of experience, that present endeavors and future possibilities should outweigh the need for constant retrospection. Well the only excuse I have is one of sentimentality, after all, how many more times will I be able to gaze at the moon and her clouds for a change? Unhurried by the merriment around us, the gentleness, the subtlety and the occasional feline (christened Scratchy on that night) rubbing herself against our hands.

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These are snapshots of living as well as loving, in scattered chronological order, whatever leaps into thought first, with the reminder that this is good, and this is real.


1) Unwrapping presents by the poolside. I could have received rocks and I wouldn't have cared. It's not the destination, it's the journey. Only half right. It's the passengers you bring along with you and I couldn't have been more blessed.


2) Laughing and sweating and screaming and crying all within a two hour span. Singing myself hoarse, smiling at people with nothing in common other than the shared somatic experience. Wandering around an empty park watching as they dismantled the lights and the metal as a little dream solidified itself in my mind.


3) It is your day. You are surrounded by friends. In the company of men as you called it. We've helped each other through our fair share of ups and downs, you said the biggest problems were the breakups. I laughed. We're both too cool to admit we care. Everything in our stride my friend, and everything on the chin.


4) We huddled together after the hours of prayers which ironically made us feel worse but seemed to cheer her up a little. I've never felt like a responsible person much less a brother, but if there's anyone I feel that for it's you.


5) Conversations that run deep into the night. And in between them the comfort of silence and the silence of comfort. I rack my brain for something more special but it eludes me. In everything, I wish you love.


Woven within these memories is the sense of discovery. Of self, of others, of the world around. The delirium, foolishness, boredom, exhilaration, confusion and wonder which has characterized this year. And perhaps most of all, excitement for all that is still to come.