I saw a memory today. Walking down the road today, wearing faded overalls, a white t-shirt, and slip-on loafers. His hair was thin, gray, and feathered back, the way he had worn it since the 1950s. A man who knew what he liked and never felt the need to change with the times. He had broad, powerful shoulders, even after time had bent his spine from years of injuries and pain. His upper back arched, and his gait had turned into a slight shuffle as he walked—the slow and methodical movements of a man who knew his legs might fail at any moment, but who refused to sit still.

His right arm was tucked inside his overalls, almost conspicuously. He had my full attention as he stopped and rested against a fence, waiting for the people following him. I might have pulled into oncoming traffic to get a closer look had I been able to move. However, I was completely frozen, and this temporary paralysis may have been my saving grace. As the traffic cleared and I became aware of my surroundings again, I pulled my car closer. As he was walking into a building, unaware of my gaze, he removed his right arm from his overalls, and there it was: his right hand. It looked foreign on his body. “My dad does not have a right hand,” is all I could think.

We buried my dad in 2007, but for a moment today, I was sure I saw him.

I saw a memory today. He was sitting in a parking lot in his truck, but it was the smile that caught my attention. His head was flying backward, clearly laughing as he talked on his phone. His baseball cap had seen better days, but it was fitting on him somehow and never looked out of place. He had a beard that would make any man jealous, but that smile, that was his moneymaker. The spitting image of his father and a born leader. We worked together for eight years but I only got to know you in the end, after we had both moved on. We were never close, not really, but we talked for almost two hours about thirty minutes before he died. I never saw it coming, and I see you everywhere I go. I wish I had gotten to know you better, Doug.

I saw a memory today riding a motorcycle, wearing a scarf and a leather jacket. They were squinting suspiciously hard, as if they had forgotten to grab their glasses. And for a moment I thought, “I wonder if they are blind,” but honestly, what are the odds of me ever seeing or knowing two blind people who still rode their motorcycles around town? I miss you, John. You were a crazy bastard, and I see you all the time.

I saw a memory today: red hair disappearing into the crowd. It was just a glimpse, but I knew it was you. In fact, I was convinced that I could hear your laughter over the cars and the noise on the street, and if it had been you, that would have been true. My heart raced as I tried to keep up, weaving in and out of the crowded sidewalk. But I had a lock; I could feel your presence, and smell your perfume, and just when I thought I was going to catch up, you were gone. Just like in my dreams, the ones that wake me up sweating twenty-two years later. I never get to see your face, but you’re always laughing, so I know you’re happy. 

I saw a memory today…