Labor Day Weekend.
BBQs, family, friends, trips to the beach or lake.
Not 2023.
I thought about the old quote, "As you get old you forget. As you older you are forgotten."
My family in Boston were no-shows. My clan in Thailand are resting on a Sunday. my good friend Alice is celebrating her birthday in Scotland with friends. We spoke yesterday.
No one else has called my phone. No one has knocked on my door. This afternoon. I took care of Professor Ollman and smoked cigarette with his loving son Raoul. Afterwards I went to Staples to print some pamphlets. I spoke with the young man making them. Upon my return I ran into my young comrades. Brigette and Alex. They were headed to Fort Greene Park to laze on the lawn. I wished them well and proceeded to 387, where I sat in my collaspible beach chair and drank an iced cappacino from Larina, thanks to Erica and Frederico. Flacco the Homeless came by. I gave him water and $1. He returned the favor with a smile.
Alison from Palm Beach called at seven.
We spoke for fifteen minutes.
It was a full day.
I forget I am not forgotten.
I have people everywhere now, the past and future who think of me as I think of them. Remembering much. Forgetting nothing.
