the person: nostalgia

there is a higher, second roof on the actual roof of casa zimbabwe, a student co-op just north of the uc berkeley campus. at night, as the sun goes down and after, you can stand on that roof, atop a maintainance shed, and look out and see the campus, the city of oakland, the san fransisco skyline and two bay bridges. for a while there was a pseudo-leather sofa up there, but the resident whose responsibility it was to see that things not catch on fire, especially on the roof, took it down and put it next to a pool table. but even without the sofa, it was a great relaxing or thinking or talking or sitting alone or sitting next to others place. i very much question whether i will ever be up on that roof again or if i would want to be up there again. it's funny, though, what you get nostalgic for. not the road trip, or the parties or even denny's. not meeting family, or stopping in over vacation or coffee. what you miss is watching them take drags from a cigarette, walking or sitting or laying side-by-side, or fuzzy drunkenness or realizing that you will still put up with one another for a time to come. and you miss the genuine feeling that friendship can last for eternity, like you've almost created this third person, like a child, that, barring a great tragedy, will always be an inspiration to both of you. and views from a roof at night, and watching their hair blow with the wind and the light from the cigarette and beautiful calm. it is the times when you are forced into thinking about nothing, when you don't have to worry about making this go well, and don't have to get upset and defend yourself, or make sure you're worrying about the right thing, because it is an in-between time. and suddenly you're creating a bona fide memory and maybe planting the seeds of nostalgia. and months or years later, when you're trying to figure out why they are gone and why you can't shake the pain or loneliness or you're trying to answer some kind of question you shouldn't waste time on about your life, your mind might be kind to you and you'll remember one of those times. i am twenty years old but i have not yet learned to take some things in stride that should be easy and i don't think i ever want to be able to do so. i don't miss the roof or the view, really, so much as the person. i miss the beautiful calm between two people who know each other perfectly in the moment they are in. even if they have fooled themselves into thinking they know what the other person will be like for eternity. ernest hemingway said that before he was able to write he had to first get down one true sentence. i think that before i am able to love someone we must first live one true moment.

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