Possibilities and Reflections

You said, “There’s this place right behind the library and close to the cafeteria-the place with the statue. Do you remember the statue?”


Do I remember the statue? Of course I remember the statue. I stood beside it, with you. I remember so much about this day. The sun hung brightly over us, enveloping us in its light. It was only April, but in central Florida this already constitutes a high of 90 and air you’d swear you could swim through. I felt sweaty and gross, but you looked at me as if I was beautiful. And I felt it. You told me about the statue being in commemoration of one of the professors you had introduced me to, and I stood amazed, taking it in. A smile crossed your lips and you let me in on the secret: the statue had been there for years. It had nothing to do with the professor who bore its likeness. I glared at you playfully and we laughed. I loved the way our laughter mixed together and bounced off of the walls of the buildings that surrounded the perfect circle in which we existed at that moment.

But, for reasons I can’t explain, the thing I remember most about this day, the weekend as a whole; is the smells. The grass that we walked on, freshly cut. The interior of my car upon turning on the air after it sat in the sun all day. Your room. The wind. The faint smell of smoke in the hotel room that was designated to be non-smoking. My shampoo mixed with your soap, lingering in the bathroom. The gummy worms and sweet tea, breakfast of champions. The body spray you liked me to wear. I remember them each differently, but with one unique commonality. They reeked of possibility. In them each lay newness and this sense that anything could happen- and did.

It’s been a long time since that day. We’ve come a long way- grown and shifted in ways we might not have imagined then. There are times when the wind blows just so across my face or the sun skims across my shoulders in a certain way- I can close my eyes and be right back there. In that circle made of buildings and filled with laughter.

But, now- in this moment- you’re still waiting for my answer. I know I’ll never be able to fully express it the way I feel it, so I simply hold the phone closer to my ear and say, “Remember…? How could I forget?”