Being at Montrose Harbor is like opening the book of my life to the index. I stare out at the lake, and the cityscape backdrop and remember everytime I've been out there. Good times and bad. Triumphs and heartbreak.
I have been both blessed and cursed. I have a silent companion following me for most of my life. He joined me on this journey of mine as a small boy, and has reminded me ever since of the finality of it all. Memories are all we have, and if we don't take care. If we don't make a conscious effort, then we lose them.
I learned that early as I struggled to remember the face of a woman I wished I had around today. I long for the sound of her voice. I struggle at a memory of an, "I love you." The only unconditional love that life has to offer was ripped from me so swiftly, that I wasn't prepared. I didn't stock up, I didn't know.
But I know now. Maybe to a fault. Most people would kill to have a memory like mine. I take stock. I hoard every moment of beauty in my mind and in my heart for fear of forgetting. For fear of them running out or my loved ones leaving. Because that's all I'll have. Memories.
I go out to Montrose Harbor. I go out sometimes to make memories. To hold dear the people I love so much. To rollerblade on a hot afternoon. To make love pressed up against a tree. To steal glances of the sun cascading off a woman's back as she take a picture of the sunset, and so I take a picture of her. Because it's truly one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen.
I've had dates there, beers with friends while watching the sky turn from beautiful blue to dark black. I've felt the sun kiss my face and had sweat pour from my brow. I've made love, started love, and fell even deeper. I've had the hat blown from my head, and lost more times than I care to remember.
One day, my silent companion will come for me. As I've gotten older, I know the time ahead will start to be less than the time behind. I judge my life on good days. I know how to make a good day, and for awhile I tried to make those days better than the last with the people I love.
One day I hope I can start my streak again, try to make each day memorable somehow again, not for me. But for someone. Because sitting there... it isn't me my memories are focused on. It's the smiles and faces, kisses and hugs, lust and love in the people that I have loved.
But today I am just a visitor. A visitor in the memories of my own life.
