Saturday, February 25, 2012

As Much

as I really enjoy forgetting, there are some things that I want to remember for a long time and never forget ever, because I'm pretty sure that they are sort of miracles (side note: I'm not actually sure if I believe in miracles yet, but I do think that there are lots and lots of things that are worth finding wonderful and being amazed by. I am overwhelmed by them sometimes.).

I don't want to forget how you can hang out with a person so much, and it's fine, but that's it. Nothing spectacular or special at all. And then one day, you are doing that fine thing, but it suddenly feels completely natural, and you don't suck. And you laugh, and it's real, and you feel it, and it feels right.

And you mindlessly find yourself laughing hard because you aren't worried about what they think so much anymore.

I don't want to forget how the birds sound in the morning before the sun is up, and when everyone is still so deeply asleep, clutching so desperately to their peace and their sheets. The birds seem, consistently, to be the first ones who celebrate spring coming. They are good omens. I hope my bed can always be near a tree for their sake.

I don't want to forget celebrating alone because of wonderful things that happen. Maybe someday I will want to forget that those celebrations were alone, but for now, I really like the capacity to celebrate even during alone-ness.

I don't want to forget plants that I have loved and how delicately they begin.

I don't want to forget how the sun glints in peoples' eyeballs.  I don't want to forget that it is beautiful to see into those eyes. So beautiful. I will probably fall in love with eyes first and brains second. Then the rest, probably.

I don't want to forget how I watched a movie and as a scene unfurled, I had the exact word to describe the moment: Kismet. How did that word get in my mind? That was a good moment for the characters, but a better moment for me, a live human, with a head filled with words that frequently find no use outside of my head.

I don't want to forget the chemicals that I can feel pushing me around and making me want to do things that are scary, but probably worthwhile; the buzz, like electric shock in my head that keeps drawing me back to wanting more, and that I am still learning how to behave.

I am still learning to show you how I am.


Marge Bjork said...

this is my favorite

Rachel Hunt said...

I don't want to forget you and all of the deep, simple, lovely talks that we have had. Especially ones on front porches. Or while eating crepes. Or while standing in a gazebo on campus on a Sunday, and you saying to me, "We do hard things."