memorly dot com

i hate everything i write on this site lately. but i was reading through it the other day, and was more than a little disturbed to be reminded of some things i thought i’d never forget, but more or less had.

and that’s why i decided to write today, even though i should really be doing other things. i’m taking a moment to tell myself, so that i never forget, that it was raining.

it was raining on the day that my dad showed up in durham to bring me my truck. even though he’d return in just a month’s time for my graduation, he’d promised to bring the ranger as soon as he could, and was going to an extraordinary effort to make good on that promise.

it started very much like the opposite of november’s nonsense, where in a very short time, my dad wasn’t there, and then suddenly he was. i met him in a parking lot on the other side of the intersection where i lived, because i had no idea how to describe where he should really be parking, and i didn’t want us both wandering in the rain. i had planned to jump into the car and direct him somewhere else, but he turned off the engine and came out to give me a hug. i was wearing a turquoise hoodie. he was wearing exactly what he was always wearing. we stood in the rain while he showed me all the things he’d brought me.

what he didn’t put on display was as pleasing as what he did…the front seat was filled with cds he’d burned for me (featuring rory gallagher’s entire collection, which he insisted i must learn to love if i didn’t already) and an open box i’d sent him in anticipation of the trip. i’d sent him music and snacks to entertain him during the drive, and remembering it, i feel silly because some of the stuff wasn’t even that good. why send chex mix to a grown man who really likes taco bell?

when people die, you always (or i always) regret what you fed them. i’ve only 80% forgiven myself for making my uncle a burrito when he had suggested that we go out to eat. i hadn’t wanted to put him out, but what was he going to do with that money? also, i’m kind of a disaster in the kitchen. life is too short to eat my cooking.

i forgive myself for the package, but only because i didn’t forget the aero bars. and that’s a side thought anyway; it isn’t a sad memory because my thanks-for-moving-heaven-and-earth-to-be-the-best-dad-ever box was sort of lame. it’s a happy memory because we stood there so long, in that parking lot. long enough for me to experience the full range of female emotions associated with being in the rain. the “i hope this doesn’t soak through my hood” phase, to the “does he not even realize we’re getting wet? one” to the happy phase, where you don’t fight it and you don’t rush, and you just stand there, in the rain, with someone you love and have really missed. we must have stood in a driving rain for 25 minutes, too busy talking to be bothered to move.

and the only reason we finally did was because we really needed to go eat the best enchiladas in town.

i only remembered this moment because i heard ‘riot van’ by the arctic monkeys, which for some reason has always reminded me of my dad, and so i’d put it one of the cds i’d sent him for the trip. remembering the rain, i got the same panicked feeling that i get when older posts in this blog seem new to me. i’m terrified to let memories slip. i never want to forget the rain.

i wrote all that five days ago but things have been too busy for blogging, and i’m always too self-conscious about the emotional entries to post them without at least a quick once-over. you can thank Brett for reminding me of it with a comment on my last post which I just read, sitting on my couch after saying goodbye to a stranger with whom I spent the last 2 hours in my kitchen, talking about life and love and losses. She had come to take Sophie and Picasso, who I put up on craigslist after they resolved my egg dilemma by tossing them out of the box. And I know it was the right choice for several reasons, but now that the only remnants of s&p in my apartment are bird crap in my ficus and feather clippings on the lid of my trashcan, I am realizing that I will really miss them.

eras end, i know, but i’ve never seen what was so good about goodbyes.