Remember when we first met? Down by that old beach tree near the old abandoned church? I do. You probably don't remember me; it has been a while. Less like a while, more like a lifetime. Well, now we meet again, but it’s not the same. You have changed, so have I. We used to play in that tree, hanging from the branches and running around it. Once we tried to hug the tree from different sides and see if our arms would reach around it. They didn’t. You’re trying to remember me, I know it. Its because of the crash that you forgot. That truck that lost control you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. It took you and left someone else, someone who doesn't talk like you, doesn't understand like you, someone who doesn't remember like you used to. It’s to hard to bear. I feel my eyes start to hurt my mind is foggy, and I run out of the room. Down the hospital halls, the doctors and nurses stare at me. Dodging past people, I see the door. As a push through the door a warm breeze hits my face, but I don't stop running. I run to the tree. Remember that tree? Near the abandoned church? No. You don't. You don't remember. Your memory disappeared like that bird. Remember that bird? I think you wouldn't. We found it in the woods on a walk once, it had hurt its wing badly. You took it home thinking you could save it. We put it in a box, you put a blanket on it. The next day it was gone. I never got to tell you why. You thought it had flown away; you were so happy. Your eyes brighter than ever. Your eyes are different now. They are the same brown. Not the ugly brown but a warm cozy brown, a nice brown just now not as bright, or as happy. Your voice changed too you know. It used to be full of excitement with a hint of the rebellious. You had a voice that wondered. It wanted to know, it wanted to live. I spent my life wanting to read my favorite book, you, you liked adventure and whenever you wanted to go on one you would drag me along. Remember? No. Its been eight years since that day in the hospital. Eight is the symbol for forever if you turn it sideways. The doctors called your parents first then your parents called mine. I was the first one to see you, the first one to find out you don't remember. I haven't seen you in eight years, and I remember you and I miss you. It’s a connection with people; once you talk to them you understand them. Once you understand them, they understand you. Then they go away, so don't forget them, then you miss them. To forget is to not remember. To not remember is like ripping away your life. So then don’t talk to them. Don’t understand them, but then something will always be missing. It’s funny. Don’t ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody.
April 22, 2012