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April 02, 2005
Moments
Some of the best stories and experiences are lost forever because they are never written down. They just dissipate and dissolve into the ether, never to be appreciated again. I keep a journal because there are certain personal stories and experiences that I hope to keep alive, even after I have gone. (Many have appeared and will appear in ths blog) They are important times to cherish, share and pass on. Life is a series of these incredible moments. Moments that slip away quicker that the white lines on a high-speed highway. Most of these moments will be forgotten unless they are rounded up and lovingly preserved. Some of them are priceless treasures that once let go, will be almost imposssible to relocate in the over-stuffed, jam-packed internal filing system we call our memory.
There will always be some simple journal entries though that just make you smile and wonder what you were thinking at the time. I really enjoy going back and reading my old journals. It's amazing how much I actually forget, like the following entry dated September 12, 1986:
A dull day. Kennebunkport, Maine.
I was sitting on the deck facing the sea. It was raining. The sea looked gray and depressed. So did my writing.
I ripped the paper out of my typewriter and crumpled it up. The paper ball arced easily across the deck.
Two points.
The only time I scored all day.
I looked at the ocean. The wooden railings that jailed the sea were a brilliant white against the dark water.
I sat back in my chair.
That’s when I saw her. She was running along the beach. Long read hair flowing in the wind.
I slowly sat up and watched her as she ran. She was beautiful. I was surprised that she was alone.
Her body was perfect.
Her running motion dreamlike. So smooth and comfortable. It looked as if she was gliding along the beach.
Although she was moving quickly, she was running in slow motion,
I stood up.
She didn’t see me.
I hopped over the railings onto the sand.
I kicked off my shoes.
I wanted to run with her. She looked so relaxed. There was no tension or pressure governing her stride. I needed to share that vacuum with her.
I started running toward her.
She saw me and slowed a little.
I yelled for her to stop.
She didn’t.
I yelled again.
Nothing.
I tried to catch up with her but she was too quick for me.
I was just about to walk back to the beach-house when she acknowledged my existence.
It was classic.
She just kicked to the left and without altering her stride, moved in a long, lazy arc and ran toward me.
I jogged toward her.
We met where the water meets the sand.
I didn’t know her. She didn’t know me, but there was some strange kind of understanding.
We tumbled onto the beach, half in and half out of the water.
She waited patiently for me to remove my wet clothing.
It didn’t matter if anyone saw me naked that day. I didn’t care. Besides, she was naked and I wanted to run the way she did.
I left my clothes in a pile on the beach.
And we ran.
And ran.
I haven’t seen her since. But a neighbor who also saw her that day tells me she was probably an Irish Setter. He said her red hair was a dead giveaway. Probably a show dog.
I don’t care what kind of a dog she was. But she was good company on a bad day.
Posted by trevor at April 2, 2005 11:57 AM
Comments
you know, if one writes/tells well, he or she brings forth other people´s stories, too. it´s not everyone´s wish to keep a journal, but if those who do, share, those memories set light to buried moments in those who listen and reactivate there what has believed lost.
i am, somehow, never afraid to lose special moments. if i do not write them down they still have carved a presence in me that leaves me a different person than i was before and that´s how they stay alive.
i agree though, it is always a pleasant surprise to read back old journals!
Posted by: stosova at April 3, 2005 01:54 PM
Trevor: I did not know this morning when I awoke that I would be laughing, smiling, crying, longing, hoping, wishing, praying....all in the space of about 15 minutes. Thanks for all the emotions.
Posted by: Susan at April 15, 2005 08:25 PM