3/7/04

 

 

Snow and rain.  After a weekend of temperatures in the seventies, it turns cold again.  I find the abrupt change in weather to be somewhat ironic considering the date.  It has been six years, and in that time the moments that we’ve met have been scattered throughout that time.  Once or twice a year I would spot you…first there would be surprise, then an awkwardness, and finally the frustration of forgotten heartbreak.

 

And one of these times falls on this day, six years after a failed attempt at romance…as once again tries its hand at irony.  Do you pretend not to know me?  Don’t you realize the significance of today?  Maybe you don’t even remember the date or the month that it happened.  Either way, there is no recognition on your face as it glances over mine.

 

It hurts less every year.  This is what I continue to tell myself.  To some degree, I believe this, but seeing you makes clarity about many things unclear.

 

Snow on my windshield.  The wipers make that “to and fro” sound as the familiar lyrics of Dashboard echoes through the speakers.

 

“And the plaster dented from your fist in the hall where you had your first kiss…” the words pour salt on the wounds that have become minor scratches, and the stereo agrees “reminds you that the memories will fade.”

 

You’re so much like this weather that changes from one week to the next…so quickly and so drastically with so little warning.

 

Your memory is like this snow.  Months go by without even the hint of you.  In the back of my mind I remember the snow, remember it in all its beauty.  And just like the snow< I long for your memory.  And then it comes.  It comes in sprinkles and mists, and eventually it storms and even blizzards.  I want it to stop.  I want to run to the back porch and shout to the heavens “that’s it, please stop, can’t you see that I’ve had enough?”  But all that I can see by that point in the memory of you.  Like the snow it manipulates everything in sight so that everything that I see reminds me of you.  I am smothered by it.  What I wished for so long and so often has come true.  It blocks all the roads out, and forces me indoors where I wait for change; sickened by what it was that I thought would bring me joy.  I sit counting the moments.

 

And change does come.  The snow is broken eventually by the sun and I feel free once again.  But even in times of sunshine there is always the chance of relapse in the blink of an eye…like today.  And in such instances, I catch myself asking “why did I ever long for the snow?”  The same question comes to mind when I think about your memory, why on earth would I ever wish for it?  The answer is simple.

 

People long for the snow because they remember the excitement that they felt as it was coming down, or the breath-taking beauty as it coat everything in sight.  What they fail to remember is that with the snow comes the bitter biting cold.  Once exposed to a sensation so frigid whether it be the snow or the memory of you…I long for it to pass as I realize how much better off I was without it.

 

It hurts less every year.  I smile as I sing along “reminds you that the memory will fade.”