Memory days are perfectly ordinary days when thinking about Mottsu sort of sneaks up on me. Some days just remind me of him, quiet rainy ones in particular.
Rainy days evoke memories of Mottsu, maybe because I love how the rain falls and quietens a day. Everything shushhed, like the sound of car tyres on the wet road. I think those are days when you huddle in closer with someone, share an umbrella, shelter together. Rainy days and Mottsu and I would slip into a cinema for the afternoon. Rainy weekend evenings we’d cook, bake, roast, time in the kitchen warm and safe, nurtured. Together with nowhere else to be.
Memory days, are different to anniversaries and birthdays, or special occasions. Days when you perhaps have anticipated the remembering of someone who’s no longer here but you can just feel them present. They are days I feel more alone – if it’s possible to be more alone than everyday regular alone. Importantly I feel wistful more than bereft, and that’s comforting to recall.
He is quietly remembered and I am grieving differently. I like to remember him well.
I had just finished reading The Crossing by Cormac McCarthy, I recommended it, almost, without hesitating. It’s a powerful book the central relationship between a boy and a wolf is very moving, Mc Carthy’s words a pleasure to read. He is a peerless author, if bleak.
Nonetheless we enjoyed the evening, but we didn’t linger. It was a work night, each had to get home. 
