I had the good fortune the other day to be in one of those moments.
One of those moments that I knew to be precious, that I can barely be explained, but I will try.
It would be a pretty terrible website if I didn’t at least attempt to describe the events that occur in my life. I think the reason people come here is the curiosity of “what is Sarah up to today?”
I suppose the alternate would just be varying lists, things I have done, things I want to do, groceries needed etc. No one would want to read that. I am already bored just thinking about it.
I am a shitty poet. Rambling is more my thing. I have moments where a turn a pretty good phrase, but they are few and far between.
I wrote an article last year called High Five wherein I reiterated and celebrated 5 glorious moments in my life. That is one of my favorite articles to re-read. Some of the things I have written cut and maim upon re-opening. I remember how vulnerable and dumb I was when I had those thoughts and those feelings.
I saw on old Facebook post about finding the outfit I wore out with the Giant on our last date and how I collapsed, sobbing into a pile of dirty laundry…devastated. I wrote a whole article around that moment where I crumbled.
I talked to him the other day. I’m fine, he’s fine. It is all a matter of time and perspective.
But that isn’t what this is about.
I believe our memory is somewhat of a cup. Events get poured in, like water, displacing and diluting some of the old. That is why I write them here. My cup is as infinite as my capacity for writing things down. Feelings and perceptions change over time, but here I have concrete proof that once upon a time…
I sat, lounged really, on a comfortable leather sofa, bathed in rays of sunshine, and watched a very beautiful boy pick up and acoustic guitar and start playing some of my favorite songs for no reason.
It was -16 C outside, but inside was warm. He had invited me over, my car started and I went, so it was already a good day. We made it 5 minutes past hellos before our clothes were off and we fucked on the aforementioned couch. Afterwards we had gone out in search of food, he ordered a pita the size of his head. Came home and thought about watching a movie, but didn’t. Instead he started to play.
Over the Hills and Far Away.
Paint it Black.
Never Going Back.
Mess is Mine by Vance Joy, I love this.
Some Pearl Jam and then one of my most beloved and memory soaked albums, Hozier.
I will not ask you where you came from
I will not ask you, neither should you
We sat and talked about music while he played, he would shoot me this devilish, challenging smirk every time he would start to play a new song. I started playing ‘name that tune’ in as few notes as possible.
I called John Mayer on a Jack Johnson song by accident which led to pulling up Mr. Mayer on YouTube and a song I hadn’t heard before.
Watching this beautiful, energetic boy sitting in the sunshine, playing and singing along with Queen of California, it hit me.
This is one of those memories I am going to hold onto and cherish for a long time to come. The dust motes dancing in the sunshine, him looking up from playing to gauge my reactions, my cheeks hurting, my body sated and warm, my ears and eyes happy. A rapid series of perfect mental photographs that will become a flip book in my mind one day.
I often wonder if I am destined for dementia. I have worked in a continuing care wing of a hospital, those who were no longer in control of their minds had two modes; reliving bliss or reliving trauma. I was 13 at the time, a candy striper and I think even then I made a promise to myself to catalog the good things and let the bad ones go.
This has served to be both lifesaving and detrimental to me.
I remembered so much of the good (and rare) little moments of my farm life that I got lost in that forest for the want of a few trees.
Now I remember dolphins, oceans, colour throws. Hiking up waterfalls. The sense of accomplishment that came from battling the elements in Milton alone. Getting on planes, belly laughs at brunch, long car rides by myself singing at the top of my lungs. The beach, the water, the beach some more. The boys of summer. Patios and brunches galore. And ordinary days turned bliss with amazing soundtracks, sunshine and good company.
Like this day.
This perfectly ordinary day where I was simply happy being serenaded.
Hello beauty, hello strange
Hello wonder, what’s your name?
He put the guitar down eventually, climbed on the couch next to me, hovering and smiling.
“I wanna fuck you” he said smiling and biting his bottom lip.
“So fuck me then.” I replied.
And he did, and in this moment I am happy. (Incubus)