RECALLING SENSES AND SENSING RECALL
Word Count: 252
It has been a long time since he felt the rush of the water, the wild river he rode as a boy and then a young man. He closes his eyes, tries to remember the feeling by seeking out sound in the run of the river, the movement of being pulled along, the slight scent of mud and fish and wet granite. It comes by like blown bubbles, popping before he can catch more than a snap of a shot.
There are many other moments that sneak out of their niches in the walls of his mind. The first pet, Laddie-dog, jumping and yipping and smelling as only a wet dog can. The first fistfight in second grade and the explosion of pain in his eye. Birthday cake candles with their waxy smoke scent cut by the high voiced singing of friends. The taste of children’s cherry cough syrup that tasted nothing like cherries. The first touchdown scored and the colors flashing with the roar of cheers. The first paycheck. The first girl.
Her name was Lucinda. She had blonde pubic hair and nipples like tightly rolled rosebuds. She was just fifteen and he a year older. It was the most passionate, the most naively innocent, the love that couldn’t possibly last, the girl that must get away. And right now, as he feels his life leaving his veins, his breath becomes shallow and slow, she is more important than rivers and dogs and everything else he has tasted of life.
When I consider future events, I often picture that the intervening time has passed, and done so instantly, and I am now at that event, saying to myself, see, I saw this event, and here it is. I think the same of dying, and it is terrifying. Thanks for the reminder.
Yeah, well, I’m full of good news lately, aren’t I? I’m afraid I’ll be on this theme for a while yet. Crying’s done; writing’s the thing to do.