if you remember me

When I look back on this part of my life these days, I find myself smiling. I think that, perhaps, that is the greatest gift of all. The memories of him sit comfortably in my mind – all of them glazed over in soft gold. I won’t write his name here. But I will tell you that the first time I met him, he was wearing a navy-blue suit. And there was something in his eyes that tugged at a string in my soul. As if it recognized the spark of a moment that meant something.

We met at a sort of training camp for volunteer humanitarian work. For eleven days, we and the other four members of our assigned group learned the ins and outs of the program we had entered into. We spent nearly every waking moment together. If I saw any of these people now, I would still remember how those eleven days brought us together as an instant family. Is there a way to explain how circumstances like this stitch all your like hearts together? I’m not sure.

We happened to be at this training camp on the 4th of July. I’ll never forget that night. We stood, all of us in our small group swallowed by the vast crowd of others at the camp. It was a deep, indigo colored night. We stood on expansive green lawns and watched an incredible display of fireworks light up the sky. I took a moment to look around at all of us, at him, under the varying lights of that firework show. I knew I would never forget it.

Even now, I do not know how to fully characterize what it was that lived between his heart and mine. Even after we parted, traveled off to our various locations, I felt this soft link connecting us. Occasionally, I would get a letter from him. A real one, scrawled in black letters on folded loose-leaf paper. Those were always good days.

Time passed, as it tends to do. Our volunteer work ended, and life swept us in the direction of our different currents. I only saw him one more time, about a year later. He was passing through town and met me on the outskirts. We sat talking for a long, long time. I’ll never forget the way the summer evening sun fell on his skin. His smile flashed at me across the table.

Fate, destiny, the universe maybe? I don’t have a short, complete explanation for how that was the last time I ever saw him. Though it wasn’t the last time that we ever spoke. That was later. But today I sit, thinking back on this handful of golden memories. He is married now, and has been for several years. Knowing all I know of him and his heart, I am sure he is happy with her. Maybe he is even a father now. He would be magnificent at that.

Thinking of him is not painful. I would never want it to be. The softness that I felt from him, the way our connection wrapped around us like a warm blanket, is something I will always cherish. I can only treasure these memories, spend a few moments with them when they rise to the surface. When I think of him now, I do so with profound gratitude. I send out a prayer of thanks, a small hope for his happiness and success.

Should he ever happen upon me once in a while in the back of his mind, I hope he will remember me as I was on that 4th of July. Standing next to him in the darkness underneath a sky glowing with fireworks. We were wide-eyed and hopeful.