I hope I never forget what it was like to step out of black and white into technicolor light.
I hope I don’t forget what it was like to wander about in a London-worthy fog, my eyes dimmed by the perpetual dusk that dyed my waking hours a waking nightmare.
I want to remember being too weary to think the thought of rising from my tear-soaked couch to climb the stairs to my empty room.
I’ll admit to wishing I could forget the words.
But I want to remember the crackling embers of indignation that ignited an inferno in the depths of me hot enough to melt the iron the words had soldered to my soul.
I want to remember the rush of opening my wings wide after years in a cage and spreading them to the rising dawn.
I want to remember the rainbow after the flood, the olive branch my feet found for rest, the dazzle of the light glorifying miles of murky water.
I want to remember the words washing away in the water of your love.
I want to remember and never forget the first rain of color after the long draught of night.
For the valley makes the mountain all the taller for its depths.