Story

He's published now. I remember him in college being a little older than me and very focused on wanting to move on from his job in construction to becoming a published writer. He asked today about certain moments. The ones that stick. He wondered aloud if they're all we really have. I think so. I do. That's why I try to hold on to them, to remember them, to write them down. A family bible, a photo album, your own personal mythology. I retold myself a story today of one of those moments thirty-something years ago beside a frozen Lowell canal in a merciless, early winter wind. How she felt inside her long black coat, the warmth of her body against mine, then a kiss that stopped everything inside and outside of me.