Inspired by I Remember, I Remember by Mary Ruefle
I remember being so young and thinking everyone was born with good intentions.
I remember –being seven or nine years old– near drowning in a 7-ft deep pool in Los Angeles, California and having this being one of my traumatic experiences as a child.
I remember falling asleep on a stranger while traveling home on a bus. I woke up covered in drool, but that wasn’t the worst part. The drool was all over the stranger I was sitting next to and all over his expensive jacket. I couldn’t stop apologizing. I don’t think he cared as much as I did.
I remember having one of the most serious phone conversations at 4 a.m. I later realized human connection is hard to find. It’s rare to find genuine people. If you find these people, please, please, please don’t let them go.
I remember a young woman with blonde hair crouched over on the pavement with a fur leopard jacket sobbing her eyes out as I took the train home from Harvard Square. I was overly concerned so I walked up to her and asked her if everything was okay.
I remember loving and hating everything all at once.
I remember, in high school, getting my spikes stuck on the track and face planted to the ground. It was one of those slow motion moments in life with the motto: LIFE SUCKS RIGHT NOW
I remember listening to Conor Oberst one day and muttering to myself, “You need to suck it up, Conor Oberst.”
I remember wanting my life to resemble the famous photographer Annie Leibovitz’s at the age of 16. I realized much later I didn’t want to make this hobby, something I found enjoyable, and turn it into something serious.
I remember holding another human being as they poured their tears and heart out.
I remember taking a taxi in Cambridge and listening to tales of how the driver’s son was an Internet sensation on Youtube.
I remember getting lost in Cambridge at 2 a.m. after a party and running around like a wild gazelle in front of MIT.
I remember swallowing my pride and taking responsibility for fostering and healing the relationships I carelessly destroyed.
I remember someone running into my office out of breath and telling me that there was blood all over the water fountain.
I remember visiting you at your job frequently and watching those visits fade.
I remember being disoriented as the sun came in through the blinds. I continued to wake up silently, gathered my belongings, and rushed off to catch the train. Before I left I sprayed my sweatshirt with your cologne.
I remember feeling the rain trickle down the back of my neck as I struggled to find the key to my apartment. Living alone for 9 months gave me a new perspective on self-actualization and responsibility.
I remember sitting on the train in silence and not worrying anymore.
I remember falling in love with one of William Shakespeare’s famous lines, “When I saw you I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew” (Hamlet, Act 2, Scene 2).
I remember realizing I had the ability to satisfy my hunger for places where I can find peace and serenity with my existence and being.
I remember fading things out of my life.
I remember caring and not caring.
I remember sadness.
I remember happiness.