I am made of pieces of everyone that I've ever loved, and sometimes a sprinkle of those I've despised. I've tied mannerisms of bodies to emotions of mine. I've remembered almost TOO much of little moments. I've replayed scenarios in my head so much that they might not even be true anymore.
But what about me?
What have I left upon others that are no longer in my life? What makes the thought of me cross another's mind? What screams Clare so loudly that the eyes of the beholder are compelled to share with the muse?
I was living in a little apartment with two roommates, one of which I hadn't seen in a few years. "Clare, I still shower in freezing water because you told me you do that to keep your skin healthy".
"And anything Hozier has your name on it for me" popping up on my phone, coming from the man who I've shared Dream Sweet in Sea Major with, and a 79% Spotify Blend score but overall...didn't want to turn our song into an album.
"This has you written all over it, it reminded me of you" sent with two photos of mannequins covered in Sharpie tattoos, decorated with the bondage of red ropes, and hanging from the ceiling of a dive bar.
I was sent a link to May I Have This Dance (Remix) at 10:59 PM this past Saturday.
"...Sam, that's like my wedding song"
"You told me that in the car, in the Pilot, on Montauk Highway passing CVS in West Islip - I remember it so vividly". And we laughed about the 2013 memories that will live on to 2086.
There are the messages that I've gotten whenever The Front Bottoms announce a tour, the FaceTimes screaming Party in the USA when I'm not in attendance, the iMessage photos of thrift finds asking if I'm proud, and the obvious....the videos mimicking my ASMR beer can opens with the most sincere excitement.
I hope I'm thought of when passing the very specific Tom Otterness' at the 14th/8th Avenue subway. I hope I've caused a smile when going through a KFC drive-thru or when a Panera bread bowl commercial comes on. Maybe at a dive bar with taxidermy, or a dart board, or just seeing another blonde with an American Spirit in her own little world.
I hope I pass on my love for Outside Timeâ„¢, my appreciation for woodworked furniture, and for ceramic trinkets. I hope my future children love pearls and silver, and adore my collections of colorful glassware. I hope my future children learn Bayside, Hot Mulligan, Queen, and Hamilton's Burn from our road trips. I hope my friends play Shilelagh Law, Noah Kahan, and Florence + the Machine to celebrate my life. I hope they toast me with Jameo Gingers. I hope they all know that they're loved as big as the sky, from me.
I hope to be remembered, and to leave a little part of my heart with everyone who took some of mine. And I hope that I won't be looking down from the clouds when those closest to me share how I've added to their mosaic. Because I've made it a point to share while their feet are on the pavement.
I hope to be remembered. And lucky enough to know what for.
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