The memory of now

I just got home after a superb dinner at Savoy Cabbage, here in Cape Town. Me and Ursula started off with lobster on a bed of selected salads, fresh raspberries, shiitake mushrooms, white asparagus, a lemon mayo and Champagne, followed by red, tender beef with pearl onions, red wine sauce and a Pinotage for main. For dessert we shared both a crème brulée and a dark chocolate mousse with espresso on the side. What can I say? I am soft and satisfied as a sack of potato.

Something that I have thought about a lot during my time with Ursula is memories.

  • How and when do they become memories? How are they selected?
  • How do they mature and transform with time? How are they simplified? Beautified?
  • How will I be telling my children about this time in my life? Cape Town 2008.
  • What references will I base my stories upon?
  • What will be of value to tell?
  • In what ways will they relate?
  • What will be remembered? And what will be forgotten?

Sometimes I want to preserve everything in a jar. Keep it exactly as delicate as each and every smile I experience everyday. The voices. The laughs. The “I-am-hungover-and-fed-up- but-what-the-fuck- do-I-have-to-complain-about- the-sun-is-shining-smile”

And the insights. The way we look at each other and realize we are all a part of a great time in our life. Being present in a moment that flies by too quickly. And then finding another moment around the bend. But what about the things I will forget? Where do those thoughts go? Is it so that we can only remember what we can relate to in presence or do we choose to forget what we don’t want to see in our future?

Yesterday evening I couldn’t sleep. Neither could Lorena.

So she came up like she often does, for a coffee and a chat. We ended up flat out on my bed, breathing in the late ocean breeze coming in over Tamboerskloof and watching the stars, wondering about the universe and life’s purpose.

I can not begin to explain how much this girl means to me. We just had a natural connection from the first time we met. It was on the train station in Malmö, Sweden, when we started working for Travelstart. I was wearing a classy, red coat and she a black leather jacket and a suitcase twice her size. We started speaking Italian and even though it was 8 years ago now that I lived in Italy, with her, it felt like yesterday. That night, we stayed in the same bed in the apartment we were sharing. I put on lip balm before I went to bed and she said “Are you making yourself pretty for me?”. “Anything for you babe, I replied”

Anyway, there’s a memory for you already. Look how I have polished it already…that’s what our minds do to beautiful experiences. Almost as if we re-invent them in our minds.

But yesterday. Laying on my bed. Talking. (And her English has improved by a million) I realized. That I will be looking back at this.

Us two, young, beautiful, positive, kind-hearted, free spiritual beings with the world at our feet. Looking at the map of stars and wondering where to go next. One thing is for sure. As Lorena put it “I can’t go back. That would be like cutting off my wings”

Now I know what’s in the air. Excitement.