“Memorize this,” he says to himself as he gazes out over the beach where they have been coming for years.
“What was that, hon?” asks his wife, looking up at him.
“What? Oh, nothing. No,” he says, feigning absent-mindedness.
“Memorize this,” he murmurs as he looks askance at his wife, feeling his throat tighten for a moment.
Memorize this moment; every exquisite detail. The roar of the waves as the sea retreats for the evening. The screeching cacophony of the seagulls gliding and diving. The breeze turning the exposed skin of his arms into a dense scripture, his life story written in braille.
Memorize this experience; this snapshot of your life. Bed it down so tightly that only death can take it away from you. The sand between your toes. The salty spray on your face. The retiring red orb on the horizon. The warm arm around your waist. The soft, familiar body snuggled against your side. Capture this. Remember this.
“You’re a million miles away tonight. What’s up?”
“I’m right here. Just… appreciating the moment.”
Memorize this, he thinks. Forget about that. Forget about the doctor and his cheerless room. Forget about his detached voice and the meaningless words that change lives in an instant. Early onset. Alzheimers. Forget about it, please. Just for tonight. Just let me have this moment to keep with me. Forever. There are so many mundane and meaningless memories that can go. But this one, tonight, this one must stay. Before I tell her. Before it all changes.
“I’m right here. Just appreciating.”