Embrace It

"'Cause it might've been something, don't say
'Cause it has to be lost in yesterday

If it calls you
Embrace it
If it haunts you
Face it"

 - Lost In Yesterday, by Tame Impala 

I want to remember ice skating on top of Whole Foods for Noble's 20th birthday with her, Haven, Shepherd, Tanner, and Lesson. I want to remember that Lesson was a naturally good skater and Shepherd was competitive about it because he wanted to be the best and we all skated and fooled around and took a break to eat the cookies I brought and buy hot chocolate before skating some more as colored lights blinked over the rink. I want to remember standing on the pretty rooftop patio area looking across at the city and Haven suggesting to Noble that CiCi's Pizza is where we should eat and she said yes so we drove there in three different cars, meeting to fill up on an inexpensive buffet which made me nostalgic for childhood. I want to remember driving home and getting there first, and after I'd been inside for awhile and taken off my shoes and was wrapping a gift Lesson came inside laughing because she claimed that I always beat her home, every time, and that she was talking on the phone when she pulled up and exclaimed to her friend that I beat her this while staying in the car longer to talk and that from the other end of the line he commented on how funny it must be for her to be outside wondering why I got home first while I was inside wondering where she was. I want to remember how hard we both laughed at this, leaning against the door fames of our rooms for support. I want to remember the way the Christmas lights illuminated all the meaningful ornaments on our live tree which the two of us picked out together and decorated on a warm Saturday Texas afternoon. I want to remember how, a few nights later, the moon was huge and orange, so jaw-droppingly stunning I stood outside in the chill air, staring at it from our patio, unable to get a decent photo so instead I just soaked it up right then and asked the beauty and wonder to seep into me and make me glow with moonlight. 

I want to remember that my friend M's brother was supposed to have surgery for cancer the next day but he came down with the flu and then pneumonia so it had to be postponed, which was nerve-wracking. I want to remember how the week before, M and I met at Mozart's on the lake for their annual light show and watched it twice, bookending the show around a Mexican food dinner and margaritas before going to my apartment to wrap a suitcase full of gifts she brought; helping her wrap was my small contribution of time and effort to her hectic and incredible life. I want to remember how I told her about an upcoming event I wasn't sure about and how M told me to tell her how it went using facial expressions across the room at church that Sunday, but then completely forgot about it. When I did so she - from up in the sound booth - didn't get it until later when I reminded her. I want to remember how she let out a yell of 'oh!' so loud in the church foyer that people all looked our way, alarmed that she was seriously injured only to see us laughing hysterically.

I want to remember making plans to go to the Trail of Lights with friends and their adorable children using Zip Passes given me for free, and how it was magical and enchanting and when I gave the three-year-old a piggy back she shouted, "The back!" jubilantly as she snuggled into my shoulder. I want to remember being so bound up in thankfulness and laughter that I had to write it all down, immediately. 

I want to remember that there will be times when the bad will outweigh the good, but only for a time. I want to remember that there are some moments of pain which I can't discount because they are real and harsh and flooding but that there are also moments I bring on myself by trying to test and see if I'm liked and loved, and that I can crush myself if I think I'm not enough instead of holding onto a heavenly hope both high above it all and which is cupped warmly inside my heart. I want to remember these moments and how they help make me who I am and that for the most part I love who I am and I love this messy and complicated and fragile and spectacular beauty of a thing called life. I want to remember. I will.