Here is mine.
My memory is porch life. It's been six years since the first time we lived it. We'd drag Miguel's record player that I forced my mom to buy at a yard sale to the walkway of my house and we'd sit underneath the sky. Everyone had their own lawn chair, same one, same place. I always sat next to you... paid attention to you. You and Miguel would pick out Hot Water Music, you and I would pick out The Weakerthans (I always think of you when I listen to Left & Leaving. It will always be one of my all time favorite records). Jesse never had a preference of music, he was just along for the ride. I don't blame him. You and I were 15 when we started porch life and you were 18 when you left the three of us to Occidental. As I'm looking at the sky tonight, I think about Porch Life and how it means more than we ever thought it would. Anything that ever mattered to us was laid out on that porch. I remember what it was like to have a brother, a cousin, and a best friend to share thoughts, ideas, and memories with. I miss you, Eric. There isn't one solid memory I can think of tonight that was more significant than the other. All I remember is you, that porch, those records, and how much I missed you when you came back from college. We were all there, but I knew it would never be the same... none of us are the same. It's amazing how much we allow ourselves to change. We're all in different places now, and porch life always manages to bring us back together around this time of year. I'm playing Left & Leaving in the background tonight in lieu of this memory; the memory of listening to "the sidewalks are watching me think about you," and what it meant to us then, and what it means to me now.