johnbyronkuhner.com

Down at the Occupy Wall Street protests, I passed a woman I knew from somewhere, but I couldn’t quite place where.  She was deeply engaged in a conversation, and I remembered from talking to her once that it wasn’t the most astounding connection of my life, so I passed on without making any fuss about it.  I wondered where I might have met her, but I just couldn’t recall.  I hate forgetting, and I hate disposableness of all forms, so I am surrounded by things that help me to remember – which does work, sometimes.  Here I am in the house where I grew up, by a window where I can pirate an internet connection from some neighbor to the north of my mother’s house – the connection comes in literally at one window alone – and I picked up a business card that had been left ages ago on the sill, and it was hers.

Now I remember the party where we met, her singing, her conversation – and I can direct you to her website, too.  I suppose there is no particular significance – just synchronicity of a sort that always feels strange and otherworldly, and a vague sense that no one should be forgotten, though we do anyway.