"A trip down memory lane"

That's the subject of the email Wesley sent me a few days ago. The content of the email was a poem I'd written on the occasion of our graduation from high school. And a trip down memory lane it was, indeed. I'm not really much of a poet. In fact, the only poem I've ever really been proud of now hangs over the sink at Mike's mom's house: a little piece filled with slapstick humor, pratfalls, and doggy doo.

Here's what I wrote in a card congratulating Wesley on his graduation from Long Beach Poly in 2002:

And so it ends.
Not with marches, flowers or ceremony.
Not loudly, not all at once.
Slowly we sneak away.
We fly, we drive, we run
away.

We leave, but we don't forget.
We mature, but not too much.

And we remember the years together:
the months spent confused
in walls, desks, and body paragraphs.
the precious weeks of freedom
when we pretended not to miss each other.

And we think of the days ahead.
Of the days days days days days
ahead----
When it will be harder to remember
who we were
what we've left behind
where we've come from.

And still we sneak away into the future
faster now!!
Until the faces have grown faint.
And all we see when we look back
are vague images of happiness.
Then our hearts will smile and remember.

Because we won't let them forget.


High school was awesome. And weird. But the weirdest part of it was it ending. Because I don't think there was ever a time while I was in it that I really believed that all of its ups, downs, and odd in-betweens would ever be just a memory.