Don’t you remember?

I am making a habit of this. I read other people’s carefully considered and beautifully articulated posts and then I add some brief and pedestrian comment of my own only to brush it down later and republish it. I pretend, in other words, that I did all the thinking myself – which is far from the truth.

I did it only this very morning to Stella and here I am again already repeating the offence courtesy of Sandra

Sandra was suggesting that if, indeed, there was a ‘soul-mate’ out there somewhere for her then perhaps she had already brushed shoulders with him. Perhaps she has.

And …. you know …. I am always brushing shoulders with strangers and I am nothing, if not an opportunist.

So here is what I had to say on the matter ….

Don’t you remember?
Don’t you remember?

It was in a cafe in Barcelona, or it might have been Buenos Aries or Milan, and you rushed in with you hair all messed up like you had just come out of the shower and were about to miss a bus or something and then you turned to me, a complete stranger, and you said, “Is this rain ever going to stop?”
And I said, “Maybe it just did.”

Don’t you remember?

22 thoughts on “Don’t you remember?

    1. Another pen-pal, at best.
      I do feel a bit guilty, quite seriously, that others put a lot of thought into their posts and I (with the attention span of a goldfish) jot down the first thing that comes into my head in response and people politely clap. It is an experience quite unlike my days at school when teachers used to say to me, “You know, Brutus, it’s a good thing you show a bit of talent at football.”

      Liked by 3 people

      1. Guilt is a real waste of time and if you haven’t retired from footy then it’s about time! We clap because you have talent, nobody has to be polite … geez your self-worth is zero, your parents must have been crap …

        Like

      2. Gee … that’s a bit rough on Mum and Dad.

        My father and his two brothers attended a prestigious private school in Sydney. Two out off those three were dux of the school. The third one (no prizes for guessing which) played in the front row for ‘the Dirty Reds’ of Drummoyne, instead.
        My mother was a doctor of English who went down with Alzheimer’s and couldn’t string a sentence together towards the end.

        And yes … I have certainly taken off the football boots for the last time. I was talked into playing a ‘demonstration’ game for charity a few years back and broke several bones – most of which belonged to me.

        I did have reason to speak with a shrink not so long ago. She asked me about my family. “So,” she said, “you’re the brains of the family?”
        “No,” I replied, “I’m the good looking one.”
        She must have thought we were all stupid.
        And ugly.

        Liked by 2 people

      3. I’m betting that your father knew my cousin! Education doesn’t ensure healthy parenting skills … you constantly put yourself down and can’t believe you have talent … so if it wasn’t your parents who did corrode your self-worth?

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  1. oh, that was YOU? and the rain did stop, I remember that, and we shared a table under one of those striped umbrellas, and then my bus came, and–well–some things last, and some don’t, and some are memories forever.

    Liked by 3 people

      1. yeah. I know. And for the longest time on that bus I wasnt sure if it was the rain outside or the rain inside. Some of the best memories are the ones that could have happened, you know?

        Like

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