Forgetting

Sometimes I remember the strangest things.  How the sky looked that one day, last year during the snow storm.  All the words to a song that I haven't heard in over 20 years.  Simple things like....what did I eat for breakfast are not answered.  But ask me about what my car seat felt like when I was 3 yrs old.....sticky, brown plastic, tray over my lap.  Cold bar frames.  My mom used a high chair seat!

Sometimes I forget important things.

Things happen and I'm confused.

I watch blood pour out of my dearest friends nose.

He reminds me.  Cancer

I remember the first time I saw him.  Sitting on a stool, house right, up against the stage.  Large green shirt he kept tugging at.  His friend....who would soon become my friend, leaning over his shoulders to wrap him in a bear hug.  She wore a long red shirt.

My friend runs his fingers through his hair.  "So this is new." He holds out his hand & I watch a small clump of his reddish blond hair fall onto his lap.

But his hair never sheds...oh yes...cancer.

I forgot.

I can tell you, he has a freckle on his upper left eyelid.  A reminder he was born with flaming red hair.

But I forget my password to my work computer daily.

4 years ago in May, I remember how he walked over theater setting & hoisted  one long leg into the stage & with a push, his giant frame stood on the stage.  My mouth hung open at this display of agility for someone of his stature and age.

But how old am I?  I forget sometimes.  43? 45?  39?

Moments he looks me straight in the eye. No words.  His eyes droop slightly in the outer corners.  I wait for a joke.  None come.  Just his eyes studying me.

It's like he's trying to remember me. Not to forget me

before

the cancer takes him away.