This weekend brought back things that i thought i had forgotten. Little things. You know...the things that happened that you thought you had let go...or had hoped to have at last. But with things so close and so distant all at once, more things come back then might have been wished for. THere was that upstairs apartment, whose inside I never physically saw, but yet those black and white photographs slowly peeled off the walls in my glance up toward the buildings on main. As they peeled, they wafted down the invisible line to the floor below, here they settled, each covering the ones fallen before them. Here they lay, dust particles scattering over the photo's edges where desperate hands should be grasping, scooping them back up. Over by the river, the arching bridge stands as before, where black and white images of toes curled over iron bars, the press of a warm body against cool, smooth rock, the closeness of mint and chi and warm breath were wrapped into one swift breeze from the past. The wooden slats of a swing, the soulful squeak of a pendulum, swinging and marking the laps in time which has been spent...and the clock forgotten until cold and redness take over noses, such a cold nose that prompts a light tap of lips to nose, that assures that all feeling hasnt been lost, a feeling that warms more then the red nose. But no matter how it felt on those days, these chances in time have moved away from me...and what i hoped them to be has dissipated into a antique breath in time. Funny how expectations turn into possibilities that wane into things lost, things forgotten, until they return as things remembered. And as chances roll to the favor of recollection, the lucky memories make it all the way to the forefront, and consume the mind for a millisecond in time. a passing glance, a passing scent, a passing memory, of rainy days and water on a window, red Gerbers with shiny green leaves, small pink polka dot ribbons, torn jeans, faded hand prints on a car; lasting memories that will forever reoccur...each time with more longing for the ability to relive that brief moment in time...but a stronger sensation of know that I wasnt afraid to love and be loved, and that, that forever memory, is worth the lapses in recollection of crinkled noses, and princess toes, raspberries and waffles, barefoot dances and 30 min goodbyes. Chances are the memory is all that will be left of all it was hoped to be. But what a memory ....and if not, the memories are endlessly going to multiply....