My Favorite Memory

My favorite memory of her is easy.  There are two that stick out.  One was the first time I saw her, watching It, sitting on a couch at Farm Sanctuary in Orland.  I had an intuition that somehow our lives would intertwine in a meaningful way.  The one that sticks out the most though happened a couple years later. 

It is difficult to remember exactly what led up to this moment.  It was late at night and we had just had sex/fucked/made love/whatever you want to call it.  I was laying in bed, and she got out of bed, totally naked, still by far the most beautiful human I have ever met or seen.  She walked over to the dresser and grabbed a pack of cigarettes and placed a towel or clothing under the door to the hallway of the apartment she shared with 3 others.  Nobody in that house would be pleased if they smelled the smoke.  Then she looked at me and smirked, because for once I was her accomplice.  We were together in this small but important breaking of taboo and house law.  As she walked over to the window completely nude she caught my eyes on her, and shook her head as I was obviously pleased at finding myself in this situation, post-coital with her about to smoke.  She lit a cigarette and perched one leg up on the windowsill. Her cigarette smoking arm tattooed and her breasts bare, lit by the moon visible through the open window.  In the moment, I knew the moment was perfect.  I joined her, either asking for a drag or more likely smoking my own.  As we stood there naked, telling cancer and long life and pain and suffering and our bodies to go fuck themselves, I sensed a hint of satisfaction in her.  I definitely could feel it in myself, and though both of us are almost always at least a little bit sad, in this moment the sadness was outweighed by the moon, the black sky, the open window the smoke flowed through, and our naked bodies held close.  I promised myself while standing there with her that I would never forget this moment, I promised myself this silently.  I told myself, James, you will never forget this, and in that moment I validated my entire existence.  And now, at least a year later, I still remember, just like I promised myself I would.  I remember her eyes, her body, her smile, wry as it ever was.  I know sadness followed, and there was hurt before and after, and there is sadness and hurt now, probably for her as well as me, but I remember holding back(or just crying)tears of joy that evening, tears of presence, tears of bliss, tears of satisfaction at having a beautiful moment in this life full of so many ugly ones.  I doubt I will ever forget that night.  I presume that, just as I am now, I will have to hold back tears when I think of that night.  I can't even remember what we did before that, or after, or the week before or the next day.  I can't place that night in a timeline and make justifications for it, or say it was a peak or a valley or an aberration.  I can't say anything.  All I can do is remember that moment, that collection of images, of us puffing away our lives naked staring at the moon, joking with Oliver, her cat, and being free for just a while.  I remember.