I remember that time I wrote him a song.
I remember doing it while trying to capture those fleeting experiences.
I remember the blue of his eyes and the way his laughter made everything wrong fade away.
I remember getting drunk and dancing with him on my rooftop in the dead heat of summer.
I remember that trip to that sculpture garden in Queens and how I thought the wind chimes looked like giant flowers growing out the dirt.
I remember the taste of that chocolate fudge cake he surprised me with while we were there because he remembered my birthday when nobody else did.
I remember the “locals” tour of the city he took me on in my silver 4Runner.
I remember the fantastic crusty old abandoned buildings he showed me with each one having its own story.
I remember the day I left in that same 4Runner.
I remember thinking I was going to make it through goodbye without crying (I never cry).
I remember being wrong about that.