Whiny Over Water

Downtown, that's where the lights are bright.

Friday evening I was finally able to take my sister out for her birthday. It was sort-of last minute. I picked up an Enigma Magazine at the urging of Jessica P. Wallin, and noticed that Milele Roots was playing at R&B. I have been trying to see them for over a year. The last time I had seen them was with my sister. So we made a date for later that evening!

I took her up to the Hunter- she's not been since the addition. I told her how I missed the special hidden spot at the end of the parking lot, behind the dumpsters- a friend had shown me a long time ago. He and I played in the aquarium fountains when they were new and then climbed through the woods to sit there. We watched a few people enjoying the river walk and we listened to the tree frogs. I wish I could remember our conversations... philosophy, religion, our histories. Strange how when we are with a close friend just hanging out we simply expect we will always be enjoying the same rituals for years together? Unfortunately, we lose those ordinary precious experiences if we do not pay close attention; because eventually we are no longer close, and those moments become lost in history existing only as a rich velvety colour in our memories. I no longer remember our conversations, but I do remember how much fun we had. So much laughter mingling with the trickling sounds of the fountains and pools- gurgling. Content as we played on the terrace of the Hunter Mansion, looking out over our home town. There were so few people around downtown at that time. Just our voices echoing against the empty buildings. Splashing out across the river. So many years ago. To be remembered again while I was enjoying anew with my sister. Reminiscing over sitting on the retaining wall and the soft green grass, watching Limpopo take the stage during Riverbend. I still remember the child playing next to us- the father keeping a close eye on him. I still can see how strong and agile Yuri was, dancing like a clown on stage and how large that balilika seemed, thumping out it's melodies. Before the Feists moved to Birmingham. Before life became complicated. Before we made choices that changed all of our directions. Before we all lost each other.

I do not want to forget. I do not want to be forgotten.
But more so- I want to remember. I want to be remembered.