Remembering: living 18 years with you and 10 without

28 today and the spring ground is saturated again
I sink deep into furrows of earth – careful to avoid the worms and snails that slither about, oblivious of my presence
My mind drifts to you as I walk down seashore and slippery pavement, past stray screaming kittens, obnoxious street-food vendors and the occasional 'misplaced' chocolate bar wrapper
Like most days – you are everywhere and nowhere, all at once

As I walk, I imagine what you would now look like
I seek out features similar to your own in the people I walk past
I configure the older you through memories of a teenage boy once known – I mix them with images of maturity and strength
I fill you out, give you scraggly sideburns, and perhaps a wee bit of orange stubble that makes you look your age – which without, leaves people assuming your are much younger than your wise 28 years
I put you in tighter clothes than you once wore – loose fitting trousers, a slightly snug, artsy black t-shirt and stylishly scuffed puma sneakers
I give you short 'messy' hair and a confident saunter
Your eyes are the same – kind and well-intended. The only difference being they have ever-so-noticeable lines toward the sides, matching the worry lines on your forehead, which have already been there for some years now

As I construct you, I drift off into memories unrealized
I giggle as I remember conversations had over cocktails in your favorite bar in Kyoto – the one you always talked about as we chatted on Skype into the wee hours of the night and were finally able to take me to when I visited you for that lovely two weeks in May
We talked about the girl you were in love with, you sought out my advice – which happily, I gave, and you took it, or left it as you saw fit
I remember the time we stayed up till morning one year, home for Christmas – we laughed until we cried, as we reflected on the mistakes and misgivings of our past – our childhood which seemed so far away - but when home, in the house of our youth, always felt like only yesterday

Joyously lost in memory creation, I loose footing and stumble back into the reality I am today, reluctant to inhabit
the rain pounds heavy and I seem to have missed my turn-off on my windy road home
I backtrack and leave you, for now
Perhaps tonight you'll visit me in dreams – perhaps this time you'll look more like how I think you should look, instead of always appearing as the little boy of a life once lived, so long ago