• Sage Webb

I Suspect I Will Remember Last Night

I believe I will remember last night ... remember it when things start to draw to their inevitable end. I’m not worried about that end. Let it come. Tomorrow or in thirty years or in more years even than that. Let the stars decide.

But regardless, I suspect I shall remember something of last night. It doesn’t take much, I suppose, to make a memory like that one—the one of last night—will be. A few candles burning on the wooden table of a dockmate’s snug boat, with a terribly cold wind tearing through the marina, scaring everyone away from the piers, chilling them into their boats’ cabins, supposedly stalwart sailors or not. The Bosun with his guitar, and everyone singing a song of pirates and privateers. A plate of grilled asparagus, and then (much later, after a frantic little spell of trying to get a chore done on my laptop), on another dockmate’s boat, a plate of chocolate truffles and a kiss at midnight ... just a little kiss ... with the Bosun chuffed because his ridiculously overly efficient watch has, of its own accord, projected fireworks onto its face.

It’s the dock so very quiet and so very dark but not wholly dark because the almost- or pretty-full moon is watching, glimpsing our doings from between masts that poke up into that moon’s domain of stars and clouds and broad, broad sky.

It’s a dockmate wrapping an arm around my waist as we wait for midnight, an arm that feels kind and that shares some sort of sisterly understanding just by wrapping like that ... nothing more ... just wrapping and waiting for midnight. And it’s the cold, windy walk down the dock after midnight, down the dock, back to our boat, to say goodnight to 2020 and wonder not at all at what 2021 may bring, because who knows anyway and it will all come when it comes.

So at the end, when that end comes (and perhaps it will come quickly, instantly, unseen before it springs, or perhaps it will come after a long, painful wait, or perhaps something else), I fancy I will remember last night. Glorious, unremarkable and extraordinary and everything in between.

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