Why don’t we remember sun
How beautiful its rays feel while we rolled down a steep hill
How it lightens the soul even during the most serious of TV tag games.
Why don’t we remember the breeze
And the way it pricks at our hair as we sore on a swing
Such calmness brought as we glide toward clouds and back.
Why don’t we remember the sensual smell
The comfort of summer on the nose
The grass stains on the back well worth the proximity to the wild flowers.
Why don’t we remember the sweet summer sound
The song of the ice cream truck
That claims even the most lactose intolerant victim to its siren entrancing jingle.
Why don’t we remember the comfort
Of grass between our feet
The joy that comes from the long anticipated freeing of your toes from winters tomb.
Why don’t we remember the reassurance
Of a mothers caress on the forehead
The complete soothing as a mother strokes the hair, back on an accepting brow.
Why don’t we remember the smile
When we didn’t disappoint our number one fan
Even though we struck out at the plate in that oh so crucial moment.
Why don’t we remember the joy
Of holding onto your friend’s hand as a person runs full steam at your red rover line
The reassurance of a friend’s squeeze as you successfully repel the best efforts to break the special bond.
Why don’t we remember the feeling
The fear and excitement
As the one we are anxious over final presses their lips against yours.
But we remember the hurt
“I really like you and care for you, but just as friends… its not you it’s me, I am just not ready for a commitment.”
Relationships come and gone not diminishing the eternal strangle in your gut of that initial rejection.
We remember the pain
A relentless pain from true rejection of who we are
The attack on the heart that can only come from the ones we let in; betrayal of our insecurities.
Oh we can recall our fondest memories, but the details fade like the face of a loved one now past.
And no Ginkgo can make the memories as sweet.
The mundane beauty swept away by the unassuming cruelty of times unyielding march to the next second.
Yet the ache a few sounds put together carelessly, can be remembered with timeless clarity.
What a curse memory has on our life, who decided this is what we will remember?
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