Friday, July 07, 2006

A familiar face

Funny how certain things can trigger memories that bring you to your knees.

When I was in college, I worked at the school newspaper, as most journalism students did. I was managing editor and the editor-in-chief was someone I quickly formed a close connection to and was terribly fond of. I remember sitting in the office that Tuesday in October, the fluorescents off and the sun filtering in through the windows, creating a cool, crisp light. I waited for him to come so we could go deliver all of the papers and wondered where he was. I remember sliding down my kitchen wall when another friend and fellow student called me, “He’s been murdered.”

For a long time I could see his face whenever I closed my eyes, whenever I wanted to be near him. I could see his hands and arms crossing mine on the light table as we pasted up the last blocks of text in the week’s edition. It was all so clear. But that was nearly a dozen years ago, and time, mercifully and cruelly, fades those memories.

I haven’t seen his face for so long. So when a song I used to sing when we were working on deadline came on the radio tonight as I was pulling into the driveway, I simply turned up the volume, closed my eyes and he was there. No time had passed. I could have touched his face. Then the song was over, I opened my eyes and he was gone just as quickly, my tears the only remnants of my memory‘s brief gift.

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