Remembering- a short story by Berni Albrighton

 I remember too much, especially at times when I would prefer a peaceful mind.

Like at night, when I am tired, glad to have the luxury of a warm comfortable bed.

In the darkness my head fills with memories. 

I momentarily forget that you are no longer here.

I vow to send you the link to the new book I have read, and for the piece of music that I discovered on Spotify.

I imagine your response, our telephone call when you would deliver your reaction so that it was detailed, specific.

How many times you would say,” Fuckin’ hell girl” without even realising it, especially if you loved the music or the band.

We would compare and reference bands of old, once again acknowledging the paths laid down by our heroes for all future musicians.

We would talk about the films we watched and find ourselves in a passionate ballet of words, everything fitting together beautifully.

When you weren’t drinking and food was once again a big part of your life, we would fill the air with the ingredients and aromas of our latest culinary achievements.

You always outdid me. 

You were never intimidated and would try anything.

I choose to remember the positives, the brother who outdid everyone else when he was on top form.

You never believed you were brilliant, no matter how many times I tried to tell you.

So I continue to create boxes in my mind where I can store the bad stuff and lose myself in the good.

My memory of you is too sharp, I remember too much.

It can be a curse.

Especially in the dark of night.