Over the past two weeks I have seen a string of "On This Day" memories popping up on my facebook page. Scrolling deeper into the memories section, I have been following a long string of memories, now 10 years old, that I did not have an option to share. Out of context, these simple quips seem small and irrelevant among the larger mix of posts; but to me, they stirred up a wealth of memories.
Ten years ago this month was when I made that first trip down to Milwaukee, during my first year in college, to visit my friends living there. That trip was a catalyst for one of the most important friendships I have ever had. Now, I could spend the next hour writing here and expressing all of my emotions and telling you of the ups and downs on that two year journey; but the truth is, in a way - I already have. You see, it was this period of my life that shifted me from a mediocre wanna-be lyricist, to a growing and budding poet and eventually an amateur novelist. Without both the encouragement from this friend, as well as the never ending emotional highs and lows that friendship brought me, I never would have found that spark or have been able to develop the skills needed to eloquently express myself as an artist.
I hesitate to leave it rest there. As nice as that sentiment may sound, to say that that friendship meant the most to me because of the writing skills I got out of it, is about as far from hitting the mark as possible. Writing came to me as a side effect. It was the inevitable bye-product of a relationship so meaningful to me at that time, that I had no alternative but to constantly write and express myself or begin to drown in a turgid sea of constantly shifting doubts & hopes, fears & dreams, longings & hesitations. So once again, I can only say that to truly grasp the importance of this time for me, you have only but to look through my gallery and read through my work, not just the poems and stories from 10 years ago, but my entire body of work. Everything I have ever written has been in some way touched by these memories.
Today though, I am left sitting and pondering about memories in general. The value they have in our lives, and the importance of knowing which memories to let go and which ones to cherish. For this, I have only one piece of art which I need to look to, one of my most recent poems, and one I still hold to as, while not my best, easily my most cherished.
Lament notI long now to roll back these pages
To see through the mists of the ages
On stories that memories can't tell
Lament not what passed through the fingers
Arresting the scene here to linger
Unsoured by heart's staining shell
If I could but live there forever
No thought for the pain here and after
But holding the truths not to quell
I'd never again live in anguish
Alone in my thoughts left to languish
Remembering just the farewell