Memories are made of this

It was ten years ago today, on our shared birthday, that someone began her drive home to Texas. I had gotten her a very nice bouquet of flowers, which wasn't uncommon, as with her I rather liked getting her anything floral for any reason. This day in New York state reminds me so much of that morning in Utah: slightly cool but sunny, with a mild breeze. Sophie B. Hawkins could have sung about that day, though the meter of "As I Lay Me Down" would sound funny were it about March instead of February. Still, it was as if the birds sang her name.

That night, the worst song possible started playing on the radio. Air Supply began singing, "I'm lying alone, with my head on the phone/Thinking of you till it hurts." It was not that far from the truth. So I wrote another poem, whose last stanza expressed a fear:

Such moments we'll not know again
Remembrances that time decays
Unless the miles dare not dilute
Each of our communiques

It was one-third correct, unfortunately. We would we never see each other again and eventually lost touch. Time has not diminished those memories, however. Memories are powerful things. Though I have learned since that one must think it will be impossible to love so deeply again, at times I seem to reflect upon those days with more than fondness and faded affection.