some practicing

I have been practing remembering.

I remember my room in Tank Co-op on the third floor that I shared with Mariana (I think this was her name?). I remember the little bird outside my window that would wolf whistle every morning, I swear to you, it was distinctly cat-callish. I remember talking with Madeline and her sister in line for lunch.

I remember standing outside of the Feve with Theo, stepping out from a party. I remember walking home in front of him, and I remember the picture he took. Only recently, I recalled seeing the picture Tony took of us upstairs, inside, that was at the time horribly mortifying. What I wouldn’t give for that picture now.

I remember the big staircase in the Science building that led up to our Astronomy 101 classroom. I remember the dress I was wearing when Harry passed me a note complimenting this dress from the row behind.

I remember planting bulbs in the front yard at 123 South Professor Street, and I remember my delight when they bloomed. I remember Amanda in the kitchen, talking. I remember the little flies in the downstairs bathroom shower, and I remember the brown tile. I remember watching Cordelia dance in the house up the street the year or two before; I was smitten with her sense of ease. She was electric.

I remember sitting on the toilet at Short Mountain, looking out across the valley and mountains there, feeling very full of awe. I remember the brownies they made us. I remember the sauna, and I remember the big table in the kitchen of the Temple that welcomed gathering.

I remember listening to the Microphones in Jacob’s bedroom in the dark.

I remember watching Spiral Jetty for the first time, and I remember thinking it was very cool that our art library had a copy.

I remember sitting on the stairs up to the roof at the farm in Ecuador. The building was stucco and painted white, and it struck me as quite grand looking, especially in contrast with the surrounding landscape. I remember drawing a fig in my notebook. I remember transcribing the words to a song about penguins into Spanish to share with Fernanda and her daughter. I remember writing Theo one of many emails on my phone. I re-read some of these emails recently and felt embarrassed, they’re so saccharine and young-sounding. I suppose I’ll look back on some of this writing and feel similarly, but I hope not (at least not for the same reasons). I try to write things more straightforwardly, more honestly. I think plain language is the loveliest, but I also know that I tend to warble.

I don’t remember the precise date of my abortion, as in I don’t remember the year it happened, but I do know it was a Friday the 13th of some month, maybe April? May? When I called to schedule the appointment, the woman on the phone made some unsolicited comment about the spooky date. I don’t remember what I said. I remember crying after I hung up the phone because I was nervous about the logistics of the whole thing, not about the abortion itself. 

I remember going to dinner at my parents’ house the night I learned, for certain, that I was pregnant. I’d been feeling strangely for a week or two, like something was “off.” I don’t remember what this felt like any more specifically than that. I remember feeling kind of giddy at dinner; my boyfriend at the time was there, too, and it felt like this kind of unbelievable secret between the two of us. I think, for a moment, we entertained the possibility – but only in the soft light of my parents’ house, in this good company. I never had the thought seriously that I would do anything else but seek an abortion. I don’t know (or, at least, I don’t remember) how he felt.

I wonder if I’ll ever have children. Will I ever have children? Who am I asking?

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My cat has a little tuft of hair frozen in a sticking-up position from where I applied flea medicine this morning. It’s surprising to me that it’s still (at 5:34pm) erect in this position, and I guess it’s a good sign of her inability to lick the medicine away. In case today starts to feel like several days in one, it’s a welcome reminder that, no, this morning was this morning.

Eli told me recently that Georgia State offers MFA degrees tuition-free, and it turns out this is true. I clicked through the informational website earlier today out of curiosity, and I am still curious. My friend Bailey is a paralegal and tracks all of her time down to six-minute increments in order to bill clients. Today, my log would begin like this:

.4 hours — checked bank statement for evidence of past mortgage payment (no evidence); paid two mortgage installments and a late fee

.4 hours — googled “atl to nyc” to check flights for early October; clicked through but didn’t purchase

.5 hours — perused Georgia State’s website, including portfolio requirements, arts faculty, timelines, financial aid

.75 hours — listened in on a largely unproductive phone call having little to do with my work/responsibilities

…

.75 hours — drove to and from Publix to pick up lunch and to gawk at the collapsed parking deck (unsuccessfully; the area is completely fenced and blocked from view)

…

on and on.

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Once I read (or was taught?) that “suddenly” is a lazy adverb, but I can’t quite remember what’s lazy about it. Is anything truly sudden? Do things only feel “sudden” in a moment, then with further consideration or looking back become less so? Does the original feeling remain true in spite of this? These aren’t rhetorical questions, actually.

Anyway — there are so, so many things I don’t remember. The exercise (called Actively Trying to Remember, which involves starting with one memory then tugging the thread to follow whatever associations or other moments come up) is both so pleasurable and lightly devastating. I mourn all that I can’t remember, and at the same time, I don’t think I could hold it all, anyway.

Thank you!