I remember when we drove through Alberta, and the way the fields looked. Dallas Green singing us lullabies. I remember when I first fell in love with you, I remember your eyes. I remember the way I slowly fell apart. I remember writing letters and letters to you, a binder of letters. I remember never giving them to you. I remember the big dipper, and when you would sit behind me in fields and hold me. I remember the feeling of September. I remember my tears. I remember friendships, that seem gone, yet I know they remain. I know that time has passed with hardly any words exchanged, but I feel that each friendship is still just as strong. I remember all of the magic moments that I have encountered while walking alone. The beauty in the reflection of the sunrise against the pond, as I walk to work at 4:50 am. The sunset from your apartment balcony, the looks in all of our eyes, as we breathed in the summer. Some memories are recent, and clear, some are faint- from a far away place that I can somehow still feel within my soul. I remember the music. The music I used to listen to, and still return to. The music that kept me going, keeps me going, kept me hoping, keeps me hoping. I remember mistakes. I remember bitterness. I remember laughter. I remember heart to hearts. I remember fire. The glow of the bonfires, the glow of my living room fire, the glow of the fire at the tip of my cigarette. I remember rivers, ponds. Magical dancing snowflakes. Magical dancing city lights, reflected against wet roads. I remember the rainbow, and the song that was playing, my left foot followed by my right foot. I remember hugs shared with coworkers, tightened bonds, but I still remember the couches and latte’s and late nights that came before. I remember the woods, sitting with you in the sunset. I remember thinking that your face had never glowed so strongly ever before. I remember the woods in the snow, when we set up a christmas tree and exchanged gifts and kisses. I remember the woods alone, at night, where there was still some old tinsel embedded into the dirt. I remember the taxicabs, and the red wine. I remember all the places we sat. I remember all the differences in my stride. I remember the basement at my parents, and the field nearby. I remember the hikory sticks and red bulls, and always getting by. I remember the extra large coffees with two creams, and feeling as if the world was at my fingertips. I still feel that way, if only for tonight. I remember the concert. I remember the shivers I got. I remember the way my soul would leap from my chest and I didn’t know what to do with myself. I remember becoming so close with you, after being best friends for so long. I remember seeing you grow. I remember your hair when you strode through kensington with light in your eyes and love on your side. I remember the ducks. I remember the scrapbook. I remember the puzzles, and venke knutsen. I remember the cocktails and the italian food, and I remember how beautiful we looked. I remember the cake, the baklava. I remember the shopping malls, and how it felt so much different as time went on. I remember the sun and the grass and the national, and being so alone yet so satisfied. I remember after eigths. I remember the cake we made, and the tea we drank. I remember dennys, and not being able to figure out where to park at the gas station in order to fill up. I remember the other time at dennys, and how fast we ran through the c-train tunnel. I remember the ticket. I remember paying you back for the ticket, and I remember you asking how I am. I remember not answering. I remember feeling beautiful and free. I remember all the parties, and the good times. The fireworks, and the bus rides. I remember the cold, I remember the warm. I remember the dresses we wore, and the couches we sat on. I remember the sprinklers. I remember seeing you change, constantly. I remember the shisha bar. I remember the family meeting. I remember wondering about the strawberries, and dwelling on my bitterness. I remember waking up and making it fade away. I remember not wanting to get out of bed. I remember never going to bed. I remember the summer beer we had in the park, and how your face had changed. I remember feeling so close with you. I remember how I felt when you showed me your music. I remember the ducks, and the baby rabbit. I remember the fireflies. I remember the seaguls. I remember the storm that took my breath away as I listened sixpence and felt the wind and the rain and the hail as I sat and chain smoked. I remember being so ultimately blown away by the presence of God, and how the rainw was listening to the same music as me. I remember the tears that formed. I remember the way the birds flew that day. I remember the night that califone changed my life. I remember the way the album healed me. I remember the way it healed you too, and how precious that night felt, because we both felt the same. I remember that there were no words. I remember when I used to stay up all night every night and blog, and research, and diligently keep in touch with everyone. I remember when I lost myself and couldn’t do it anymore. I remember my heart breaking at the news of the oil spill. I remember crying for the first time, about something that wasn’t you. I remember finding information that I couldn’t bear to hear. I remember cutting you out, letting you in, cutting you out, letting you in. I remember finally cutting you out. I remember the places I’ve been. I remember the things I’ve been though. I remember all the pain, and how it made me stronger. I remember being young and naive. I still have so much to learn, so far to go. I’m still young. But I understand. I remember not understanding.
I remember all the people who have helped me understand.
I don’t remember ever feeling so alive.
