MEMORY KEEPERS

“It’s funny, in the moment, you could never imagine you’d forget the names of your high school teachers or college professors. You experience the happiest moments of your life and think, ‘I’ll always remember this.’

The birthdays, the wins, the awards, the graduations. Yes, you’re so sure you’ll remember the names of all your best friends from these stages of life. The ones you’d trade snacks with during lunch time. The ones you go on adventure runs with during the end of cross country season. The ones you’d split those awful Colt-45’s with but hey, it was free and you were both too good to get a fake ID and also too broke.

The ones who’d see you laugh and cry. The ones you’d call late at night while driving home so you wouldn’t fall asleep. The ones who would take you to the airport. You think it’s serious enough that you may be in the running to  make a speech at their wedding someday, I don’t know.

Then there are the people you have relationships with. The high school sweetheart you thought would be ‘the one!’ But then you get mad over something stupid but decide not to break-up until after prom because you already color coordinated your outfits. Then there’s the first college relationship. That’s a tough one to get over. It started one night when you were shoved into the corner at a house party and find yourselves deep in conversation over jungle juice. The rest is history. But you know, so young, so much left to learn and things to do. It was better not to be tied down or so you think. The first serious relationship after college is the hardest to get over I think. Yeah for sure. It’s just so close and so possible for that to be it. There’s no rush to do things. No set time limit. It could be endless if you wanted it to be. But, you know in the end, the memories are farther away. You start to replay them to analyze the “whys” and “hows.” Sooner or later it gets harder to recall what really happened. What was said and who was involved. What was imagined and what was real. Eventually you don’t care. It’s just over. 

Ok, I’m clearly rambling but I think my point is, it’s crazy that these people, these ‘memory keepers’ so to speak, come into your life and mean so much in that moment and as life goes on you can hardly remember their names or how you met. I mean, do you even remember how we met?”

I turn too quickly and brace for balance even though I’m lying on the floor and there’s nowhere for me to fall. Damn prosecco. We keep picking it up because it’s cheap but really, weren’t we getting a little old for a cheap buzz? A question for another day. I lay on my side and stare at him as he stares at the ceiling. I wave my hand in front of his face. 

“Hello? If you fell asleep again during another one of my prosecco lectures I’ll lose it.”

“Relax. I’m listening. I know exactly the day we met.”

“No you don’t. You’re lying.”

“Yes, I do. It was busy, there was a party of 50 and you were being an absolute tyrant to everyone around you.”

“Oh come on, that could literally be any shift I worked, haha I hated that place.”

“True, but, you don’t remember? It was my first day, I was learning how to do my cash-out. We finally got to the end of our shift and I was sitting by myself at table 14 in the back. You plopped down in the booth sitting right across from me and dumped all of your crap on the table, I mean pens, cash, a bag of lucky charms cereal, you always had snacks. Anyways, you totally messed up my organized pile of receipts.”

“Hmmm go on.”

“So...after ruining my pile, and without saying sorry or even looking at me you said, ‘so, tell me your life story.’ “

“Ah, my favorite thing.”

“Yes, and so I did. You didn’t make eye contact with me the whole time, you just listened and counted your receipts until finally at the end, like after sharing my whole life story, that’s when you decided to ask what my name was. Like I told you everything and the whole time you didn’t know my name. Anyways, clearly,  the rest is history.”

“Huh.”

I start to recall this memory but it’s fuzzy. That’s the other thing. Memories that mean so much to you can mean more or less to others. Life is funny and also sad in that way. I turn back to stare at the ceiling wondering why I can’t remember that day the same way he can. I think about the terrible days I’ve had and wonder if they were just as terrible for the other people involved, the other memory keepers. Do you remember something more if you are the one that got left behind or the one leaving that other person behind? How many times do you have to replay a memory to not care about it anymore. How many times do you get to replay a memory before the plays run-out? 

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cng