I'm all alone--but better put--
I'm by myself. It's 1:04 at night
and I'm thinking things over.
She's beside me, but then again,
it just feels that way--just another
memory. Phone's no longer
ringing, but I like it that way,
just me and my memories.
But memories are never just a memory.
A paradox, you say?--I don't think so.
Let's say, memories are a scrapbook.
The most recent memories, whether
they are a photo of your making a
great catch in the end zone that wins
the game, or another one of you
having been elected president of the
Sophomore Class. As one grows
older, so do your memories: your
first girlfriend; photos of your best
buddies; college graduation ceremonies.
Your wedding, of course; the births
of your children; the day your father
won his first legal case. Then there
are traumas, which don't make your
scrapbook, but may stay with you
for the rest of your life. All events
of your life become memories, but
memories are never just a memory.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS