My life is once again full of those singular moments, those intimate, one time only events. I want to share them with you, I want to tell you about laying in the tub with my eyes closed, swaying in the water as david plays his guitar for me.
I want to share these moments with you, but they are not for you, they are ours. They are held dear between us.
Why do I want to badly to share thse with you? To let you know I’m happy? To create another facet to this green facade you see?
No. Quite simply, I want to share them because this is really the only written record of my life. I should keep a journal but I don’t. I only have this.
In copying over this site to the new one I would find myself thinking “oh, i’m coming up on the time jen and I did such and such” or “hey, didn’t I do this with so and so around this time” and I find that there was so much I did not write about and so much and as time goes on I will forget. And if I forget and there is no written record, does it even matter than these events even happened?
The scent of someone falling asleep next to you, the sound of someone tuning a guitar, explaining that all the good train songs are sung with the capo on the 5th fret, getting an ice cream in savannah, laughing and almost driving off the road in kansas city, trying to talk about the future with your somewhat new boyfriend and starting to cry over your hamburger at the Edina Grill.
If I don’t remember these things, who will?