There’s nothing monumental about this moment. I won’t remember it in my old age. I won’t look back at this memory and think, now that was a defining time. I’ll forget the details of what was said and done. It will all vanquish to the oblivion except for you.
You will resist like the stubborn fixation that you are in my life. You won’t fade. The background of moments with you will blur but your presence will illuminate.
It will begin like this, some epic story of some time somewhere we thought was important. Maybe it was one of several trips we took together, piling our passports with stamps of adventures. Remember that time will be your opening line for each of our travel diaries. I’ll nod my head and interject facial expressions and gestures that support the claim that I am listening but really I’m not. Truly, I’m thinking of another angle to remember these trips. Because it wasn’t the country that we went to or the excursions we embarked upon that mattered, it was the mere fact that I was somewhere, doing something with you.
We could be driving somewhere, moving scantily on the highway. We could be stuck in traffic with you rambling on about something I’ve already forgotten because I was too busy noticing something more important. I was too busy imprinting your expressions and noting the effects of your familiar laughter and the cheerful ambiance it can bring to a lousy rainy city like ours.
We could be out on the town, our heels clicking against the pavement of the city streets. Our arms would be weaved through each other’s in the hopes of arming ourselves against the cold. The night may have ended and we both may be lamenting about the horridness that is getting a cab in this city. Or the night may have just begun. We may have danced under some bright lights, brushing off the prying boys because this moment was just for us and our ridiculous moves. We could be shrieking with joy because our favorite song just came on and suddenly we’re singing completely off key, ignorant and carefree to those around us.
We could be at each other’s wedding day as bridesmaids, or organizing each other’s baby showers, or at a weekend getaway to get away from the families we both created. Or it could be just another Sunday afternoon coffee date or a Thursday night post work dinner. It could be some important milestone or some passing moment of mediocrity, but as long as I’m with you, then it’s my favourite place to be.
It’s not some definitive setting, no wood framed house or concrete building that encompasses our friendship. It’s not an exemplary moment or particular period. It’s simply the assurance that comes with having you by my side. It’s the comfort of knowing I’ll always have someone who gets me, someone who I don’t need to explain myself to, someone who already and will always understand me.