You’ll speak about the memories of which you’re so fond about. And I won’t know what the restaurant smelled like, how the food tasted, or what exactly about the company made the memory. But the thing about you telling me those stories is that you have the need to share. To explain about the way the city could be felt through your entire soul. And it won’t matter that you had these experiences without me.
It’s the way that you carry these stories with you, always ready to deal them out like business cards, on the corner of a busy street, on an unemployed day.
It won’t be the memories I fall in love with, or the way your eyes get so animated when you remember the tiniest detail.
It is your mind that has captured me so completely. The way that with these stories, you weave a picture so complete and eventually, I’ll carry these stories with me too.
And when you get so excited down the road, when you’ve felt that you haven’t shared a particular memory with me yet, that I’ll sit back and remember so fondly that you have already shared this one with me, and I’ll listen to it anyway.
Because it is now that your story, has so slowly and wonderfully become my own too.
Much Love, Miranda