Tag: #memory

A Metallic Ting

Memories are distant and impulsive things. Tom, I remember your basement. I remember spending the night there and working on a fort in the woods. I remember riding bikes and attempting to ride down a plank from the barn, where I fell and my feelings of nervousness were valid.

I remember the musty smell of the basement but also the feeling of slight comfort knowing your family was wealthy by comparison. I know others badmouthed you sometimes but I was fine.

I remember the pool, which I found lavish and completely out of reach for me, and how sliding down the slide was exhilarating, at least until I hit the dry patch and felt the burn of the summer heat.

Memory will eat all of us. We live in that space, with what ifs and possibilities control our minds. There’s a billion of them, full of regret and joy that we with to return to.

Salisbury Steak, Myst, and Loss.

The mind is a beautiful, awful thing. While I recently was watching a play through of a Myst game, I had a realization that was more distinct than most.

Growing up, I had a close friend. Someone I trusted and felt fine with sharing the awkward and equally uncomfortable aspects of growing up. I still carry memories of their house, the forts we made and the names we gave them. One spot, in a piney tree in and adjacent woods, was the leisure spot.

I remember how sad he was when in grade school, a girl didn’t show up to dance with him. I remember a spelling bee when I was in the lead and he alluded to how God had helped me find the answers. I remember a time when (upon eating a candy that was shaped like glue) and we got reported for snorting it (again, which we didn’t do), we had to write an apology message during recess.

I remember the hunger craving the cheap Salisbury steak and how I always wanted another can of Josta soda. I still do. And how going to a convention with his family, I tried bear jerky, alligator jerky, and several others. I remember the cold pizza for breakfast before a day at a theme park where I didn’t want to ride the tall rides.

Playing Myst with him and seeing the early internet. Listening to a recording of George Carlin and finding the offensive language fun and shocking. His family having a hot tub, and his moving away as we talked of Nintendo 64.

I remember these things clearly but I also remember drifting apart. How when going swimming at a riverbank with my cousins, he tried beer, and seemed focused on just having access to such things. Most of all I remember the moment of realization that a friend didn’t want to be with me so much as the things around me. I remember that loss.

It’s a terrible feeling to feel like an extra piece in someone else’s chase for satisfaction, and I stopped calling them. The friendship eventually dissolved over time. I don’t know what happened to them or if we would have stayed close had I followed the same vices and thoughts. But I still remember that distinct pain of not being wanted, and it’s stuck with me, though I’ve grown to understand personal wants and needs