Remembrance

For Val, because, once she reads it, she'll swear it was written for her.

See? I'm always right. Just like Ivanova.

Remembrance

It was a chance meeting,

After ten years,

Four children,

And eight hundred

miles between them

The convergence of

Chance and induction

brought them together

In a flurry of electronica

And passionate remembrance.

Memories in fluid

passed between them,

Alternating currents of

certainty and doubt,

Gravel tossed in a pond

Posing ripples

with every surface struck

Names remembered,

events reviewed,

Who said what to whom

In ever broad

concentric bands of

Year after year.

And still,

one story looks

Nothing like the other,

Except, for now,

Building from this point on

A story in concert,

One stone dropped

to a still,

empty pond.