I have all these small memories, they don't make good stories- they don't even make much sense. They just are. They are the ones that come to me at random moments. They rush up to the surface while I'm doing daily things-- watching a cooking show and thinking about a time we ate barbecue chicken pizza-- or putting on boots that remind me of a time I broke off a heel and Ada had to help me walk so I wouldn't fall on my bum.Now and then I think of staying up all night talking in her bed, cruising around with the windows down in the summertime, riding backwards in Rhonda's car, sitting on the deck in the sunshine, sitting at the kitchen table when everyone else was asleep, or sitting on the floor anywhere, listening to the same cd with one pair of earbuds – on a bus, a train, a plane.
In the majority of these I can't remember where we were going, what we were doing, or why we were doing it. For some reason we were just there, lounging around, chilling. Going no place in particular. Like that even mattered.
Still they all have this in common—Ada-- talking about Ada things. Being around Ada is like being at peace with the world- seeing the ridiculous, the hilarious and seeing also the fantastic possibilities, the potential for nothing to amount to something. It's like an Ada vibe. It's what stands out when I amble through these memories. Everything is good, everything is cool. No one else can evoke the vibe, you can only just be in it.
I know it's selfish. But even if she's not talking yet, I wish I were there now if only just to mellow in that vibe.