Some people remember books, music, et al. Photographic memories really piss me off. I cannot tell you 100 consecutive words I have read in any book. I can however, with little prompting, remember ever lecture. I remember conversations, I likely will forget times, dates, and places, but I will remember who was speaking, what was said, what they were wearing, and likely what was in the immediate proximity. It's like my mind doesn't want to let go of words. Sad sometimes, because I can remember every goodbye, every sorrow filled excuse, and every I love you that came before. It's not always bad. People occasionally remark how I never seem unfamiliar with my friends, even if we haven't spoken in years. It's because, for me, we just finished talking. The memory, even years old, is fresh in my mind. My first memory is one of words. I am very small. I don't know how I ended up there. I likely fell. I did that a lot. I'm scared, but I don't know why. My father is sitting in a wooden chair with cushions. He's wearing blue jeans, and an oily white t-shirt. He's clean shaven. He looks very young. I must have been tiny. His voice has a certain disdain. "Get up boy, you aint hurt" is my earliest memory. He wanted men. Men get up. Even at that young age, he expected me to get up. It sounds bad in that context, but as I said, the memories are always fresh in my mind. So, it's always there. A bone breaks. "Get up boy you aint hurt." Every bump, every bruise, every blown out knee, every future scar replaced with "Get up boy you aint hurt." A broken heart wavering by the grave of an old man whose heart burst, "Get up boy you aint hurt." So his first words, carried me through his end. Words are my forget me nots. Every broken promise, every broken heart, every goodbye, they are all there, but so too is every promise to be pro wrestlers, every bet that we could swim across the river with full fishing gear in tow, every magnificent accomplishment from all night gaming sessions, every soft moonlit conversation about forever, every I love you. In truth, I am a dreamer, and like most dreamers, I dream of sunny days, while living in a storm. My forget me nots bring me rays of light, until the storm has passed.
