2024-01-09

Jan 10, 2024

Life really is a collection of distractions, and most of them don't stick in the memory. My memory feels like a movie montage, but not like a cool one, like a really boring one. Even in all that mediocrity, much, if not all, of the mundanity gets deleted. Sorry experiences, you just didn't make the cut. That's a sad thing to consider: that many of my interactions, much more many events than I can try to grasp, are just not significant enough to remember. Despite knowing how special it is to have moments on this planet, I seem to always get sucked into forgetfulness.

I wonder...

will I even remember this thought

or are they all doomed to repeat?

Lessons are like that too, some aren't strong enough for us to only learn them once.

This will likely come again until it is unbearable.

But some memories are so vivid that I could tell the story in any order and still know exactly how it happened. The night Ali found me is one of those memories.

A familiar pop and sizzle rose behind me. I could usually tell the difference between gunshots and fireworks from that sizzle, or if there was no sizzle, from the more punchy hum of decorative explosions. I stood up and peered across the airfield, catching remnants of luminosity tracing arcs across a night skyline. It didn't startle me, but as I turned back Ali was gone. Shrugging I snatched the can of half eaten tuna and began walking back to my hangar.

No rush, I'll drag the bike along.

There was a lingering sense that this was one of those nights, a tingle on my neck. I swatted it away and kept walking.

I don't believe in any of that shit.

The old BMW slumped at my side as I passed it. I liked how cars from that era sat so low, as if built for clowns or children, and so out of place in the land of lifted trucks that never see a day of work and have immaculate detailed bed liners for... something. Half a grin grew between my wiry beard and whiskers as I imagined taking on another project and the day when I'd be done and driving it around the airport for no reason but to enjoy something working by my hands.

It sure would be nice if something worked for a change.

I passed a paved emptiness between closed hangar doors. The far edge opened to a street that never slept on the other side of an almost secure fence that was sometimes held together by hose clamps and zip ties. Chain link is too easy to snip, and there are bigger problems here than keeping strangers from wandering about. The hangar doors rustled in the wind and sent a steel shudder through a not so still evening. Another explosion. I didn't turn this time.

I walked through another opening. No explosion. It was quiet enough for me to notice. I turned to see what was making all that silence.

Ali froze in a low squat, all legs bent, head low, ears pointed stiff, eyes wide and fixed on mine. His bravery trembled, having crept into an open space.

Oh.

My gaze lowered into my left hand.

He must still be hungry.

I placed the tin down lightly and backed away, propping the bike on the corrugated hangar wall. We approached the can slowly, simultaneously stepping to each other. I couldn't tell if I was waiting for him or he me. It made me chuckle. We approached from either side of the emptiness.

Who is playing who?

When we reached the tuna, I instinctively crouched into as small a ball as I could, hugging my knees. I dangled my fishy hand for Ali to sniff. Soon I was petting him with the other as he ate.

"I guess we're friends now."

Ugh...

I had plans.

I'm foolish to think that my plans are what is going to happen. I knew that, but seem to forget it more often than anything. Ali would follow me the rest of the way home that night. Nowadays, I still wonder who is following who home. Last week, on our walk, he would remind me of that without needing words. It's too enchanting to see a wild friendly thing dancing his way out the gate and knowing that it's time I did some following. He would wander off, forgetting there are places to go, and quickly catch up with a bounding whimsical inefficient gallop. He wasn’t in a rush, popping his hind legs with each kick like an excited cartoon rabbit. When he arrived at my feet his joyful-round eyes would squint and a brief greeting chirp-of-a-meow would sneak out of his smile. Then, as if surprised by the realization of his mission and the importance of being here on Earth, he darted off to wander again. And when he would wander I would look for the moon, as I do on uncertain nights, and believe for a moment that the reflection meant something, or that someone special was looking at it too, just so I could feel for a moment that I was connected to unexplainable things.

I need trust when the sun sinks low and all the beauty of a day collects into the shortest moments when you really notice clouds and colors and a cooling rush. Because just after the intensity that is so filled with hope and dopamine and realization, just after we’ve forgotten there are thoughts, the sky begins to show how much emptiness there is in the universe. Even on the clearest of nights, especially near a city such as this, it is hard to see that there are many twinkles in the dark. And knowledge is unfortunate in those moments because although I could pinch a star into my grasp and pretend like a child that I could squish whole other worlds, I know could never reach them. My mind can conceive of how far away things are, but I’ll never truly understand that distance.

Ali forgets that he knows things. He finds the same pipe-cleaner every day and believes it is a lizard, and even when he catches it, it vibrates about and he must catch the other end. His forgetfulness is so forgetful that when he catches the other end he finds that he must also catch the other end, the end that he already had. His wisdom is infinite because this game can be played until the sun goes down and he is reminded that he can prowl in those twilight zones, and that's when he beckons me to go for a walk, and I know that is the time I should, because my mind prowls in those moments too. In those moments I must find simple things to believe, so I believe that this near-wild cat found me to teach me, and I treat him as my fuzzy guru for the evening and forget that I had so much to do.