The Great Remember by Steve Martin and the Steep Canyan Rangers from their album “Rare Bird Alert”
Following is a letter that was never sent to my Norwegian Friend #1, featured in Twin Flame: Fact or Fiction.
March 23, 2014
I attended a Writer’s Workshop in San Francisco this weekend. One of the little five minute assignments was to write “I remember…”. Explore what comes from this two word opener for five minutes. That may mean one story or several I remembers until time is up. Several of the group shared theirs publicly. I was very touched by the format when applied to one specific person.
It came to me in the lunch break that followed to use this format to explore my recent memories of our Mentorship Meeting.
I affectionately declare that the Physics Professor Writes a Poem:
I remember typing up the email requesting your Mentorship services. I notice that I felt calm while I collected my thoughts and dreams, asking for your collaboration.
I remember my surprise that in lieu of the short coffee meetup prior to a Mentor Meeting, our plans landed on dinner and a show. I had noticed, weeks prior, a favorite local celebrity was performing “In Your Element” featuring 80’s music running for two nights only.
I remember the lift in my heart and soul when I saw you standing in the foyer of the restaurant that Saturday night: right on time to my early – only 10 minutes. I notice how you seem to run out of your jacket to come to the table to greet me…with a hug and quick fleeting kiss on the cheek. I notice that the 2+ years since our last meeting disappear instantly.
I remember you sharing your personal stories within 10 minutes of this surreal reunion. I notice how endearing it is to hear you talk of your personal history.
I remember talking comfortably with you as if we were longstanding friends. I notice what a lovely picture we paint for all the other restaurant patrons.
I remember our mutual enjoyment of the Malbec wine. The large and shapely glassware does not go unnoticed by either of us.
I remember wanting to skip down the street to the theatre to see the show. Buoyed up with a thimble of wine, I could not hold back a few skipping steps. I wonder if you notice.
I remember you missing a step and spilling red wine on your crisp white shirt as we continued the wild goose chase for our seats. I notice that you handle the mishap with style and grace. The shirt was destined to be processed the next day by Edmonton’s World Class Waste Management Program. It is probably biofuel by now…
I remember you noticing the last song I listened to on my playlist in the blackened theatre during the show, Fields of Gold by Eva Cassidy – you also have that very song. I notice the title to the song my son has been regularly serenading me with is Rock You Like a Hurricane by the Scorpions.
I remember walking past the Citadel Atrium. I notice the workbench in the shadows of the majestic Norfolk Pines. I resist the urge to show you.
I remember seeing you in the passenger seat of my red, debadged SUV. I almost can not look as it would seem an impossible reality not weeks before. I just feel it.
I remember dropping you to the downtown hotel close to 11pm, anticipating the unknown day ahead which would start with me picking you up at 10am the next morning. I delight in the fact that this was the night of daylight savings time change. We spring forward so one less hour to wait.
I remember picking you up the next morning. The thrill of seeing your surprise approach to my truck from outside as I wait in the front lobby. You meet me at the hotel front step with a kiss for each cheek as is the custom of my ancestors. I wonder, did you do some homework last night? Nice touch…
I remember my enthusiasm spilling over while driving towards Edmonton’s Telus Baseball Field. I share the rumor that the book Shoeless Joe by WP Kinsella was inspired by this very field and inspired the movie “Field of Dreams”. You reach out your hand to calm & steady me – my hand absentmindedly holding the steering wheel that controls your safety. The gentle reminder feels like a gesture performed a thousand times. I notice how patient you are with me – as if you know me well.
I finish my writing into my phone at the San Francisco Restaurant over lunch. I am now on a break in the playground across from the Hilton Financial District Hotel. I open my phone. It is 3:33pm. Catch my breath…
I remember walking into the lineup at Cora’s for breakfast – a place I have attended with each and every friend dear to me. I notice the logo on your grey winter jacket: Arcteryx, Canadian company. I am wearing the Norwegian brand Helly Hansen in Indigo. I notice your flexibility as you ordered coffee, not yet realizing other options were available. Glad you ended up with double Espresso.
I remember you asking me what is the difference between enlightenment and ascension. I notice there are no words available to answer.
I remember parking in my VIP parking spot at my friend’s house down by the River. I notice the 200 stairs in the distance as we crossed the first footbridge of many that day.
I remember the warm sun with the best of the season temperature nearing 10 degrees Celsius – a 30 degree improvement from the prior week. I notice how therapeutic it feels as the winter season takes its last breath.
I remember walking past a sign that warns the path is not passable. I notice our passage easily defies the validity of the warning.
I remember your playful way of slip-sliding down the trails with your beautiful, blue, latest technology, Nike running shoes. I enjoyed a sure-footed walk clad in my 20 year old beige K-Swiss hiking boots.
I remember you asking for my thoughts on Christmas Traditions. I notice that I do not tell you I wrote a story about that.
I remember you asking which house I prefer of the two within view on the opposite bank by the mighty North Saskatchewan River. I notice myself not really having a preference.
I remember playing the spoons, each our own set, at a public performance by a French Canadian Folk Group conveniently located near the walking path.
I remember walking along the trail and you modeling how to find a way to make a circular route rather than doubling back the way we came. I notice how you make warm connections with people as you ask for directions.
I remember walking up an extremely steep, snowy hill. I kick toeholds into the crusty 6 inches of snow that I thought might come in handy for you. I do not look back to see if you used them or not. I notice you made it up somehow without incident.
I remember talking about tattoos: if we would have one what would it be? I notice we both have thought about this before. I notice that I forget to mention the dragonfly as a symbol I consider appropriate. I adore this discussion. I wonder if you notice that?
It is now the next day after my Monday morning “Rush” to Yoga… Home sweet home in Edmonton.
I remember the topic of relationships coming up. I notice we both share cursory details that illustrate our challenges in this area.
I remember you order a green juice and I, a smoothie at Booster Juice in my local strip mall.
I remember you performing the first moves of Tai Chi outside the Booster Juice as you wait for your second customized green juice to be made. I am a captive audience in the driver’s seat of my SUV. I notice the twinkle in your eye.
Sarah Harmer Captive
I remember backing into the garage of my home…with you in the passenger seat. I notice how naturally it sits with me.
I remember having tea together, each enjoying a space on my beautiful, green sofa. I notice how you prepare the lighting using the two floor lamps in the room prior to my entry. I notice how comfortable I feel as I put my feet up on the wartorn coffee table.
I remember phoning ahead to ensure an available table at a funky new gastrobar called “The Glass Monkey”. I notice how plain the restaurant looks in its strip mall location as we drive up.
I remember the fun of ordering and eating together at our last supper. I notice that you declare you enjoy the view … of me, not at all worried about missing out the view of the televised saltwater fishtank that I am enjoying. I notice that I do not share with you how happy I am with my view … of you.
I remember you reminding me that it takes two to Tango in answer to my question “ have you ever tangoed in Buenos Aires?”, even the waiter chimes in his agreement with this statement as he happens to be at the table in the next breath. I notice that my heart flutters in response.
I remember that you asked if I had been to both Thailand and Buenos Aires separately over the course of our meeting. After my negative reply, I notice that you state, “you would love it there”. I agree with you. I notice that I leave those remarks hang.
I remember looking at the clock on the dash of my vehicle. I notice that the carriage is soon to turn into a pumpkin, yet again.
I remember you saying just before you exit the vehicle this night, “I will see you again”. I notice myself doubting “did I actually hear that?”
MOST of all, I remember feeling the deepest, surest peace within my entire being as I was driving down the hill out of downtown Edmonton that night. I take notice…
May 11, 2014
I loved the experience as it goes to show the value of not making assumptions, not taking things personally, desiring/creating an experience and most of all not knowing. I have not a clue. I look back to our original meeting: I fell in love with his Soul. Logic and the mind keep us busy wondering what is going on. Makes little logical sense to me. I love that he knows me in a more realistic light than before. I enjoyed our shared time. I must again respect his choice in how he wants to interact with me.
I add one last verse:
I remember you heard one of my favorite songs playing from my iphone Playlist over the Harmon Kardon in my kitchen -my amp from the big system was awaiting replacement. I notice the song seems to impact you more than any other you have heard from my list.
You Are Not Alone by Patty Griffin
Relax. Nothing is under control. What a relief…
Satisfied by Jewel