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Ocean

Memories


Every once in a while I wonder how you are. Today it was because I went down to Palo Alto where you used to live. Where you moved after I started school at Santa Clara and you told that therapist you didn’t know where else to live. So you followed me. After a year in Hong Kong, oh sorry, ten months in Hong Kong, you were as lost as you are now.

Who would’ve thought that you would have to eventually come back to reality after your midlife crisis?

I wish that you found happiness in Palo Alto, but I don’t think you did.

I drove past the wine bar you used to go to, I drove past the Thai restaurant we went to a few times. I remembered that time at Tamarind where I ordered a ginger beer before dinner and it was from Australia. It came in a cool little gold bottle with a kangaroo on it. I remember that the waiter seemed rude and I cried. I was so overwhelmed. You said something to me that hurt so badly; I cried in the middle of the restaurant.

I drove past the tea shop where we used to get milk teas, that used to be the loving hut. I drove past the jewelry store where you brought me because you needed to get your necklace fixed?

It’s hard to go to places where I have so many memories of you.

It’s hard to mourn your loss when you’re still alive.

I remember your apartment there. Where I lived after graduation. Watching Mad Men and eating all the food in your house. Before I left to go to that program. I stayed there when S was sleeping upstairs. I was there when he was carrying a cardboard box full of computer stuff down the stairs and he called me a cunt. Not sure what I did that time to deserve that, I’m sure he could remind me if I asked. I remember your chocolate covered almonds that you would “hide” in your bedside drawer and that new longer, pristinely white couch that was so modern. I liked your apartment. I guess you were there a while. But I wish you were happy there.

I thought of you tonight as I drove back up to the city. Where you’re living and I’m living, and S is living. But it just felt sad this time. Sad because of the memories we shared and how my life crosses those old paths every once in a while.

I wish that you were happy now. I wish those memories in Palo Alto made me feel good; like we shared good times together and maybe a few of them are nice. But, tonight you kind of feel like a ghost that I can’t get away from. Your painfully depressed self makes me ache with sorrow because I just wish, more than anything, that you were someone I could call and talk to about these memories.

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