(In) Memories

I

On the night I learned he had died I collapsed in grief; later opened the bottle of Malbec Brad brought from Argentina; turned 20 the next day.

Each birthday since, preceded by the day of his death.

I am a quarter century old. He is five years dead.

Inspired: my own world explorations began with Malbec at the source.

II

Fleeting memories stay with me:

When I was 8 you gave me a guitar; Muggy summer visits spent catching fireflies in Mason jars while you sang of sealing wax and other fancy stuff

Distance swimming in a great lake; I learned to snorkel with guppies on sandbars inspired by tall tales of sea urchins and shifting tides. Years later, snorkeling in a tropical ocean I saw my first sea urchin and was instantly transported backwards in time.

III

Grief is isolating even when it is necessary; grief is isolating

Memories inspire
even when they are painful

memory is sweet
no matter how fleeting

memory is sweet