Happy New Year!

Are you fully aware right now?
What do you mean?
Meaning, do you think you'll remember this in, say, ten years? This moment.
Like, this conversation with you?
Yeah.
Of course. I'll remember
this. Why wouldn't I?
I'm not sure. How old are you?
Thirteen.
Yeah. I remember being thirteen, but I don't remember a single, particular moment. I have feelings, maybe echoes of thirteen, but I don't remember any moments like this.
Call me in ten years; I bet I'll remember.
Maybe you're just smarter than me.

Perhaps it was a strange conversation to have with a middle-school student during lunch break, but I couldn't help it. That particularly cloudy day in early December, all I could think about was how I always feel hyper, maybe even, super cognizant of my life, but, inevitably, I can only vividly remember one week prior.

It's a strange idea that my presence is so malleable, so ephemeral. Like when you daydream while you're reading: the words in and out, just out of phase with the vibrations of your memory.

2009 sinks beneath the timeline horizon like a whale going back under the surface. Elegance, beauty, softness gone, existing somewhere else. A few sharp memories of pain stand out in '09. A few honeyed instances make me smile. But largely, the entire year floats somewhere out of sight.

Maybe it's just because it's December 31st. Or maybe I should take more ginkgo.

Goodbye, 2009.