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You try to recreate the memory
sitting in the same place, the same way
playing the same song at the same time
thinking the same thoughts
trying

so desperately
to hold on
to the feeling

But you can’t

You know too much
You’ve lived too much
The song is different
The sunset is different
The world is different

The memory
Is left
Behind

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Image Source: tanignak.com

It’s funny how two lives can intersect.

I thought I would know Daisy for life. Maybe she thought so too. We were best friends from kindergarten until second grade, and we were inseparable. Birthday parties, roller skating, trading our lunchbox treasures on the playground at recess…we did it all together and believed we always would.

Our parents were friends and both had station wagons – we had a Buick, and they had a Dodge – and sometimes we would take day trips to the lake together. Daisy and I always rode in the way-back, bouncing around without seatbelts, playing Mad-Libs and drinking juice with sticky hands. Sometimes we would just hug and watch the landscape roll by.

Daisy was my best friend, and I never thought I would know life without her. And then one day her family moved away. Just gone on a dime, half-way across the country. I cried every day for a week, and it took a long time before I could play at recess or ride in the way-back again. We exchanged a few letters and talked on the phone a couple of times, but that was it. She was gone and left to my memories.

Thirty years later I found Daisy again, naturally through Facebook. And she was back in town! We immediately friended each other and launched into a passionate catch-up. We had a lot in common: both divorced, no kids, adventures across the states. We were able to speak the language of fulfilled adults while delving back into the feeling of being inseparable kids again.

We met for drinks, and hugged for hours, or so it felt. It was like getting a transfusion of youth through her body. I found myself trembling at her beauty in addition to the nerves about seeing her again after so long. I often dreamed of this moment, and here it was.

We sat down, ordered a round and settled in. And it was…kind of awkward. Stilted conversation, long pauses, not as much common ground as we thought. We ordered another round, and managed to battle through the discomfort, a little bit. But it felt like we were out of synch. Unfamiliar partners dancing at slightly different tempos.

After our third round, I think we both felt the chasm between us. The years between had killed what we were, and there was nothing to go back to.

We hugged again on the way out, but shorter and more detached, and went on our way. We kept in touch through Facebook, but that night was the extent of our grand reunion. I don’t know that I had any thoughts of anything developing. But I’ll always feel off about how undeveloped it all felt.

Two people come together, and it’s like two rivers flowing together. They split apart, then intersect again hundreds of miles south. And then they split apart again.

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