A Memory...

Little sweetheart, I don’t spend a lot of time on Facebook. I check in once a day because we’ve sometimes gotten messages for the band’s page there, so I try to be watchful for that. There is a feature there called “Memories” and it reminds you of something you may have posted or that happened on that particular day some years ago - like its anniversary, whatever the post or event might have marked.

I mention all this because, one day, the feature reminded me that that last play I wrote for you, My Before & After, had its performances with Seattle’s ACT eight years ago.

Your mom came up to Seattle to see the play and stay for the talkback - the after-show Q&A between the playwright (me), the Literary Manager and the audience. ACT had flown me out to be part of a program with one other playwright in a co-production with The Icicle Creek Theatre Festival. Each year they select two new plays and cast a company to play roles in both, then put everyone up for two weeks at an Arts Retreat in the mountains in central Washington state, work on each play, presenting them at the end over consecutive nights, before coming back to Seattle for the performance at ACT.

It was really kind of lovely. I had my own little cabin - with air conditioning and wifi! - and there would be two rehearsal periods each day, a morning one and an afternoon one, which we’d alternate each day, one play or the other. The rest of the time I was working on rewrites in my little cabin or going for long walks in the woods. But I did have one entire day off and walked into the nearest town, about 3 miles away.

And that’s what I’m remembering most today, little sweetheart. How I ached and longed for you and how good the long walk felt. How I wandered around in the little village full of sweet little shops that I’d so like to have taken you to, have had you with me, seeing it all together, and that somehow, I think you really were at my side.

All kinds of little coincidences kept happening. I’d hear a song in one of the shops, a song that I’d heard you play on your little MacBook Air when we were together in your room. I stopped by a gift shop and was browsing there and found a necklace with your name on it. Silver chain and “Summer” in silver, too, at its center. There were just two of them in stock and I bought them both so I could give one to your mom.

Finally, I was really hungry and wanted to find something simple for lunch - I was really craving just a nice tuna salad sandwich - but there was some kind of majorly German vibe to the entire town and all the places were that kind of beer and sausage cuisine. Like Octoberfest all year round. I finally settled on a place that had a kind of sea theme, unusual I thought for a small village nestled into the mountains.

Again, it brought you to mind so much, little sweetheart, for your love of tales of pirates and sea lore and I felt as if you had led me there. I sat down and looked at the menu and lo and behold, there was exactly what I’d been craving - lovely fresh tuna salad, fresh greens and some hand-cut fries. It was mid-afternoon but nice and cool and unhurried inside. Very homey with dark paneled walls and decorated with nets and other sailing paraphernalia. I kind of felt like having a beer, something locally brewed, an IPA, perhaps, and they had one that looked good. You order a mug or what they called, charmingly a “schooner”, so I got the latter and it arrived in a tall, rounded glass.

I’d set out that late morning so very sad and lonely, little sweetheart. I’d met my lead actor for breakfast before I left and over coffee he told me he thought I was the saddest person he’d ever known in his life. How I longed and ached for you!

But I think you sensed that, little sweetheart, and came alighting near me all day to help buoy my spirits and keep me going. You fortified me. I remember thinking that very thing at the time. Memories, indeed.

How I love you! Forever!