the same friend, a man in my life, has a few good memories of our after work dinners at the Westbury Hotel in London a few years ago, while i remember those timeless events with a vague memory of sweetness and freedom. upon returning from a week of intense self discovery in the alsace, with a full program of "to dos" on the agenda, the same friend comes for a visit and to me time stops, the work can wait, even if it is super urgent. nothing, but nothing can prevent me from just being that elusive and abandoned being that i cherish being. when he asked me last week if i was in love, i forgot to add this being who i am to my list of those with whom i am in love. i forget, i often forget. i forget the good, i forget the bad, i just forget.
having looked long and incessantly for the acknowledgment and reassurance that i felt missing inside me, having looked for it out there in others, having found it in me and catalyzed by an "en passant" innocuous remark from a muse in the alsace, i returned home last week on the other side of me. i do not remember being here before, or it could be that i just forgot like i often do.
i remember that other drummer from long ago, that drummer who is mine, that drummer with another beat, and i now hear that drummer again. it is the drummer of my own self confidence and esteem that has returned. it could also be that that drummer never left me, i may just have forgotten it, if not ignored it for so many years, like i forgot myself. i forget.
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