Memory's Breath

You wash your hair. You remember how he loved it. Dark and bold, Italian.

You chop garlic. You remember how it was your job, always, to peel the cloves and crush them, when he did the cooking.

You glance at the wrist of a man who sits beside you. You remember his Casio. Silver. So eighties.

You speak to an Englishman at Bar Gagarin. His eyes are kind. You play the movie forward. Impossible. How can the language of love be anything but German? It is meine liebe kleine Lilan you want to hear. And nothing else.

You take his photos from the wall. You delete him from your Facebook friends. You throw away his contact cleanser. You remove him from your SKYPE.

And it does not matter.

He is everywhere.

Comments

[Rosemary Posemary]

How eloquent! Your words brought back the memory of such times in my own life.
Thank You.

XO,

Rosemary Posemary

[andrea]

I am thinking of you! Be gentle and go slow. We love you. xoxo Andrea

[Lilan]

Thank you so much, Andrea. Your thoughts, your love, mean a lot. I know you totally understand what I'm going through. And I'll take all the transatlantic support-vibes I can get.
Love
L

[Lilan]

Hi Posemary, happy to be of service in the launching of past memories. Well, "happy" is not maybe the word. But at least I feel my words have power. If I can speak the experience in a way that touches others, I find its worth.
xoxoxL