To Gain Again Familiarity

Stange: I read over some posts from this last year and it seems like an old home I lived in before my mind was developed enough to create vivid memories. It was like walking through old rooms with faded crayon scribbles and yellow linoleum with fork holes. Some corners I knew and others only reminded me of photographs I had flipped through once after unloading some box from the basement. I wonder if I cannot remember, it will be as if I never lived. I hope I did or said some things or looked out over some city in such a way that someone else, some dear friend, was prodded to remember; to remember me and that place and themselves with me in that place. Because memory is unfaithful and fleeting, living alone and traveling alone seems careless and eventually opaque. But ugly opaque: not like a worn piece of beach-glass, but like a scummy shower curtain. Now, though, I don’t need to remember much because I see the same everyday. I’ve made a home, at least for a year, and I’ve already engraved a routine into my day. I like it. I like that I know how the sun will hit the window and bend into my room at different parts of the day and I like getting mail.

~ by henrykramer on April 29, 2009.