There were geese everywhere that year.
My dad had created one of his infamous Master Plans to make a million dollars and rid the city of the geese at the same time, but you've heard all about that by now.
--I want to be able to tell you how it felt without reminding you that you were or were not there. Spoils it if you remember that you were, inneffective if you remember that you weren't. This particular sequence of memory fits like an overcoat I've given away and then borrowed back for a quick jaunt to the convenience store across from your building. I know the fit of these pockets, but this is not my overcoat now.--
I was wearing those courderoys and the last pair of tennis shoes purchased in the fall while I was living at mom and dads. (I still have them) and I remember the inaction that pushed us gently toward the other while trying to avoid the geese. All this, entirely due to the cold. I remember how high up on your chest I came when I leaned my face against you and how your jacket fit almost around both of us.
I thought to myself "How strange, that I do not know what this is." because I tend to believe that I know what everything is, and "This feels like an accident.". It likely was, now that I consider it. I am constantly having long term accidents that change nearly everything. But now I barely remember that you ever hung in my coat closet.
But just a moment ago I thought of that thing I do where I pop my knuckles against that body when I'm pushing at those back muscles, and I thought to myself "They know everything, and I have no information at all." which is due to tendencies related to running in fresh snow with bare feet and my love of unabashed disclosure with only the really surprising information held back.
I suddenly feel like I don't have my seat belt on.
Posted by Sonya at January 17, 2003 09:57 AM