Remember to Live

      I will never forget October 6, 1994. It was a Thursday. Though, of course, all days are Thursdays and all months are October. It’s the year that makes all the difference, and I know that more then most.

         1993 had been a perfectly ghastly year for me (my whole life at that point was pretty much a perfectly ghastly experience, but that’s beside the point). I had awaken in the midst of some sort of hellish thunderstorm and was thoroughly wet, cold, and annoyed within the first five minutes. I don’t like being wet. I like the rain, but I do not at all enjoy being drenched by it. There is a well defined difference, believe me. Go sit out in the rain for the better part of a day and try to tell me otherwise.

         But, of course, I digress from the story at hand. The reason I am spending this October 6 writing in a faded green notebook (whose stiff pages have most definitely seen better days and whose battered spine creaks warningly, threatening any moment to give way under the enormous pressure of time and wear) is being lost amidst my constant rambling. Let me try again.

         1994’s day began with a warm breeze and the voice of a child.

         “Why are you all wet?”

         I opened my eyes to see a young girl looking down at me with big, solemn eyes and a questioning furrow in her brows.

         “The rain,” I answered simply.

         “It hasn’t rained in three weeks. I know. I keep track of things like that.”

         “Sorry, I guess I wasn’t clear. I meant last year’s rain. That’s why I’m wet.”

         The girl scowled at me, and then turned on the heels of her tickle-me-pink colored shoes. I watched her awhile as she ran away. She was probably lucky to get away from the crazy time-traveling lady that looked and most likely smelled like a drowned cat.

         I was in a park this time. It had been one since 1980 or so and I had enjoyed the luxury of spending my waking moments among the pleasant flowers and trees ever since. It was better then alot of places I could imagine. It was better then alot of places I could remember.

         I had decided back in 1993 that this year (or day or whatever constitutes itself as a standard unit of measure in my bizarre life) would be one of rest. Maybe even of suicide depending on the weather report. I really didn’t know if I could successfully handle another thunderstorm. At least hell was rumored to be warm.          

         I scouted out a reasonable looking bench that was located in a part of the park that was seldom visited, and set myself up to sleep away the rest of the year.

         (Haha.. I enjoy making jokes like these. Partly because I’m the only one that ever would understand them.)

         I stretched my wet and tired bones across the wooden frame and closed my eyes. The warmth of the sun soaked into my skin and began the long, tireless job of drying out my clothes.

         “Hi. I guess you weren’t lying.”

         I stayed completely motionless, hoping the voice wasn’t directed at me and that this  disturber of my peace would soon go away.

         “Not that I shouldn’t have trusted you, of course. It’s not like I don’t know that it’s possible. Though, I mean, come on! I hardly believe my life some time. You can’t possibly blame me for not believing yours.”

         I let out a laborious sigh intended to let all know how exasperated I was. Are people just not capable of leaving me alone? Goodness..

         “Non capisco l’inglese,” I said flatly, trying to look as non-comprehending and unfriendly as possible.

         The guy in front of me had the gall to grin. And it was one of those insanely ridiculous grins that stretch across the entire face. One of those smiles that almost threatens to force its audience to smile along with it. I resisted valiantly. I was not in the mood to be Miss Friendly-My-Name-Is-”Fill-in-the-Blank” Girl.

         “Non li credo,” he responded with the same insane grin.

         I swore under my breath. This guy actually knew Italian?

         “Ok, never mind. I do capisco English. What do you want?”

         “I guess this is a little weird for you,” the guy said, his smile dimming down to an expression of sympathetic concern. “I just wanted to show you something.”

         From his pocket he withdrew a small silver locket in the shape of a heart. As he opened it and revealed its contents I gasped. My hand went instinctively to my neck where my mother’s locket peacefully lay. I undid the clasp and hurriedly clicked open the heart. Inside was a portrait of my mother and father holding me in their arms. The very same portrait this stranger had in is hands.

         “Where did you get that?” I asked fiercely.

         “You-” he looked confused and unsure of how to proceed.

         “Where did you get that?!” I practically screamed at him, “That portrait is nearly 300 years old and the locket just the same. There are no other lockets in the world like it!”

         “You gave it to me,” he finally said simply, “I didn’t want it, but you insisted. You told me to show it to you the next time I saw you. If I’d known it meant so much to you I never would have accepted it.”

         “What are you talking about? I never gave you anything.”

         “Of course you wouldn’t remember,” the guy said with a small smile that didn’t quite make it to his bright blue eyes. “It happened in 1995.”

         I did a quick mental mind search to determine the current year. They all go by in such a blur anyways.

         (I really need to stop it with these jokes. They’re not funny.)

         “It’s 1994 now,” my stranger said slowly, letting the numbers truly sink in.

         “So we’ve talked before?” I questioned after awhile, “Or we will? Or..” I didn’t know how to continue.

         “Yeah. But not alot. You just gave me the locket and told me to show it to you tomorrow. I told you that just wasn’t possible, but you seemed sure it was.”

         He paused and peered intently at me.

         “Because you said you were like me.”

         I looked into his eyes, “Except traveling on the opposite side of the freeway.”

         “Something like that,” he replied, the smile returning to his face, “Do you mind if I sit?”

         We talked on that bench for the rest of the morning. For lunch we went to an expensive cafe and then walked out before our check came. The law doesn’t hold much over you when you know it will be a whole new year tomorrow.

         We didn’t talk at all about the mysterious force in each of our lives. It was our common bond, but one we didn’t need or want to discuss.

         I do not believe anyone can fall in love within 24 hours, but I do believe I let myself feel something akin to that emotion. Maybe it was just the comfort of knowing that I wasn’t alone in my wretched predicament, or maybe it was just having someone to talk to after so long without. I have been living amongst strangers for so many years that I have hardly felt I have been living at all.

         As the orange sun sank beneath grey hills, he turned to me and looked into my eyes.

         “Live,” he merely said.

         I stared back at him and then finally nodded in agreement. My little bubble of sarcastic woe and self-pity needed to be popped in order to let the rest of the world in. To let life sink back into these lifeless bones.

         We returned to the bench at the park and sat there in comforted, if not melancholy silence. As night progressed and midnight drew ever closer, I felt him stir at my side.

         “Take my jacket,” he said, already having it half off, “There’s a slight drizzle in ‘95.”

         “Keep it. There’s a hurricane in ‘93.”

         There was a pause before we both laughed, finally appreciating the ridiculousness of our situation.

         “I should’ve known you wouldn’t take it anyways. You weren’t wearing it when I saw you.”

         There was another pause and then he cleared his throat and turned to look at me again. The light of the moon and stars glistened strangely in his eyes and I almost thought I saw a tear start to form.

         “In 1995.. Of course, I guess you haven’t yet, but you must have already decided why and I have to know. Why didn’t you say more.. Why did you just..”

         “Why did I just give you the locket and leave?” I finished for him, already having wondered at it myself.

         He nodded.

         “Because it is impossible for us to ever have this day again. We’re on two completely different time tracks. We’re like ships passing in the night,” I choked on my words, unexpectedly. I didn’t expect to feel this emotional and I certainly didn’t expect to feel the tears welling up in my eyes.

         “But we got lucky, don’t you understand? We got the chance to have one day. And it’s a day I’ll never forget. “

         I looked up at him and saw tears dropping down his cheeks. He put his arms around me and held me tight.

         ”I love you,” he breathed into my ear.

         I knew our time was almost up, but I let myself relax in the final minutes of this perfect moment.

         “I love you.”


         I woke up on a cold bench alone. I almost passed off the strange memories playing in my head as a dream, but was interrupted by the discovery of an unfamiliar coat upon my shoulders.

         It was his and in the right pocket I found a note that said:


         “You were wearing it in ‘95.
         I’ll survive the hurricane,
         you just survive the future.
         I love you.
         And remember:
         Live.”


         I won’t lie. I cried a little. I tried not to, but then the inevitable eventually came.

         After that, though, I was ready for 1995. I was ready to embrace life -this life of mine that was full of so many missed chances, but so many opportunities.

         My hand went to the silver locket that hung around my neck, reminding me of what I first must do.

         I needed to go give a stranger my heart.