Remembering

I just had a very Mondayish-Monday. Kids in 6th period didn't have their drafts. 7th period sophomores ticked me off. I remembered that I had forgotten to do something-- many things. I have three different organizations to call that will put me on hold for decades before helping me with my problems. I have too much to do and too little time. I am ready for Spring Break. Spring Break is three weeks away.

It's amazing to me-- in these 26 years-- how little I actually remember. I remember the truly good things, and the truly horrific things. Days like this though-- they slip away. It's one more wave onto my desert island that is as forgettable as the next. It's one more leaf off a tree that will be ground into the soil. It's one more cherry blossom off in the breeze.

This day doesn't last. Literally, or figuratively. I will forget essentially everything about this mundane Monday. And that, in this case, is a good thing.

I will remember playing princesses with Heidi in our front yard.
I will remember climbing trees with Shane.
I will remember waiting backstage at the Spokane Opera House, waiting to dance on as Clara in the Alberta Ballet's Nutcracker as a 5th grader.
I will remember walking through the halls of my Arts School High-School when it was still under construction.
I will remember the day I heard the terrible words.
I will remember my first kiss.
I will remember being ricocheted onstage as "Ariel" in The Tempest.
I will remember Mike calling me to exult over us both getting our first leads in I Hate Hamlet.
I will remember singing quietly to myself to calm my nerves when waiting to come on stage as "Madge" in Picnic.
I will remember the first time I said, "I love you."
I will remember dancing with Tony in West Side Story and getting thrown so high.
I will remember weeping over my first lost love.
I will remember talking with Fernanda during rush at Gamma Phi.
I will remember a tragic dinner in my short yellow dress.
I will remember playing guitar for the first time in public, and singing with a voice that shook like fear.
I will remember playing guitar in Covent Garden, and singing with a voice that lifted like joy.
I will remember the sunrise I saw when leaving London.
I will remember the campsite in Rome.
I will remember catching the bouquet at Shane's wedding.
I will remember laundry in Malawi, and ants floating in the laundry tub.
I will remember Tikambe falling asleep in my lap.
I will remember Clayton swinging from my back.
I will remember the sand-dollar walk on the beach in Malibu.
I will remember falling for him, and falling for him, and falling for him.
And I will remember the slow extrications.
I will remember emails with Annie.
I will remember the dinner after Heidi's graduation, and the canyon that opened up beneath us.
I will remember frolicking in meadows on "Heidi's Alp" in Switzerland.
I will remember running into the damn sign.
I will remember the words on the screen at the internet cafe in Cinque Terre.
I will remember the angels.
I will remember the monster duck in Chantilly.
I will remember the snowy walk, and the scaffolded house, and the view, and the goodbye.
I will remember the horrible realization that I had somehow forgotten to do four huge grad school assignments that were already past due.
I will remember Grandpa's balcony.
I will remember watching Heidi come down the aisle.
I will remember swimming in the lake with Max at 1am on a stifling summer night.
I will remember the phone call from Stephanie, and hearing that she wanted to hire me to teach at her school.
I will remember meeting him.
I will remember hanging art in my classroom.
I will remember the first time we said, "I love you."
I will remember that horrible day when Natalie said she didn't think the class was adequately preparing her, and I will remember the birthday card from the sophomores, when they all wrote how much they loved me.
I will remember the best.
And I will remember the worst.

And today is neither; and today, I will forget. And I'm thankful for forgetting.

I want room for what matters.

Dear Diary

From the very first one:

March 1st (1992)

to day I Just turned 8. I fellt relly prowd caus I'm eight.

My wish was That my birth day my next year would be as good as this one

* * * * * * * *

March 6th

Evan said, "he loved me," ok

I love Chirs D.

* * * * * * * *

Scott loves me

* * * * * * * *

Ice is cold
Lions are scary
Oh dear I fell down
Very nice
eggs are yummy
cold snow
Oh wow
lot of apples
i am nice
no, this is the end

(Acrostic poem= secret code= "I love Colin.")

* * * * * * * *
1/29/1994

Dear Diary,

Paul is getting potty trained. It's really cute. Whenever he goes potty, he gets a sticker. The potty chair even has a little sheild for boys who shoot forward. Mom says after Grandma is gone she's going to put underpants on him, and when he goes potty, it'll trick'll down his legs. Mom says thats how you do it, but I feel sorry for Paul.