A Girl...

Remembrance of Things Past

One of the best things about having Teddy back in town again is that, like finding an old shirt in a box in the dank and cobwebby basement crawlspace, being around him brings back all sorts of memories that got shoved into a box in the dank and cobwebby crawlspace of my brain. That's not to say that Teddy is worn and faded and out of style like an old shirt (or that he smells like must and mothballs, because he doesn't), but that he is comfy and familiar but also new! and exciting! again having been away, and whenever I see him now I'm innundated with memories of past adventures, not to mention a few misadventures. In all of the time I've spent around him in the last few weeks, 90 percent of my sentences have started with the words, "Hey, remember when..."

On Monday night, we made the loooooooong trek to his new oceanside apartment in San Francisco to welcome to town his roommate and baby brother, M, whom I last saw in 2002 or 3 standing in the woods in Lake Tahoe wearing nothing but a bath towel. This time he was fully clothed and grown up, for gosh sake, and now I have a picture of him on my phone grocery shopping for organic vegetables at midnight like a real, adult city-person. An hour earlier at the neighborhood tiki bar, he had bought the table two drinks because, by golly, he was old enough to, and that kind of blows my mind because it seem like just yesterday we were leaving him outside in the cold so we could buy him a six-pack without getting in trouble.

I said he bought us two drinks on Monday, but I should make that "two rounds," since each cocktail came in a bowl and comfortably served five. Most importantly, there were miniature umbrellas and maraschino cherries in said drink bowls, and anyone who takes his beverages with extra umbrellas and extra cherries is a good person to have around, don't you think? He and Simon are already thinking up names for their new Weezer-style band. I think this is going to work.

Although the jukebox played "Hotel California" that night, M's true welcome to the West Coast from the suburbs of Georgia was a beach blanket bonfire. Camera: check. Duraflame: check. Winter coats: check. Even the hottest summer days in the Bay Area give way to crisp nights, and Ocean Beach, on the Pacific, is always always always windy. Having driven to the sea straight from work, Simon and I weren't dressed for the bonfire, so before we left Teddy's apartment we all shopped through his outerwear for our evening attire. "And who are you wearing tonight?" little brother M interviewed himself. "I'm wearing a Teddy," he answered, flapping the jacket open and closed, his hands in the pockets.

The last beach blanket bonfire I had was for a birthday I'm shocked to realize was just two and a half years ago--shocked because it feels two and a half lifetimes removed from where I am now. Ethan, already my ex but not yet Dead To Me of His Own Volition, was there. He was there the last time I'd seen M too, when we'd dragged him out of the shower so we could get one last picture with him before we headed off to Yosemite for the weekend to get engaged. That's another two lifetimes ago, if you're counting.

Monday night's "remember when"s were understandably uneven. They were all happy memories, but some of them were tinged with sadness, regret, anger, confusion, incredulity. For a solid chunk of time, Teddy represented my old life and Simon my new one, and at the beginning of their merge, it was hard to speak of one without noticing the cold shadow it cast on the other. I recall thinking back then that one day, later, it would all be "normal," whatever that means. I said it with confidence, but my fingers were crossed behind my back.

Now that it's officially "later," I think I have an idea of what that "normal" has turned out to be: I still have memories of the before and memories of the after, but now I also have memories of the inbetween, when we were all there together. On Monday night, as our little party picked apart a roast chicken while sitting in a circle on the floor of Teddy and M's unfurnished apartment, I was remembering the last time I'd seen M (old life), the first time Teddy had met Simon (new life), and then the last time I'd sat around with these people on the floor--June of 2006, when Teddy moved to Philadelphia for the year.

I can't believe it was a whole year; it seems like he left just last week. I can't believe it's been almost four years since I got engaged, more than three since we broke it off, two since he stopped speaking to me. Simon and I started living in the same apartment in just November of last year, and now we own a house and a stainless steel refrigerator and we have to remind each other to take out the garbage on Tuesday nights. They say that life is what happens when you're making other plans, and so I've always thought it worked both ways, that I could slow time if I paid very close attention to everything, tried always to live in the moment. I guess I was wrong about that. Time keeps on slipping, slipping...Perhaps the best we can do is ensure we're making happy memories to keep us warm in our old age.

Posted by Leah at September 13, 2007 03:05 PM