Losing

What is it that makes those certain moments, or people, in your life stick, long after their gone? Why is it that something small and insignificant can change the way you look at your dreams, and alter the flow of your memories? The way the sun filtered through the trees as a song playing in the car sinks into your heart, on a crisply warm autumn day. The feelings of regret that still linger on the back of the tongue from careless words that seem to have no consequence now. Why when we lose some things, they fade softly into the night, and others burn more vivid with each passing year. I've never been particularly good at keeping (or making) friends, but there are a few gone who I will always ask, "why? ". Why are you gone? Why do I still feel as connected to you as ever? Why were we brought together at all? Strange the things we learn in this life---and the people---the way we learn them. How often do we know how we truly affect the soul of another? Is it always mutual? I'd like to think it is; I'd like to think that even though our days have passed, a part of myself still burns in them with the same strength, like maybe our paths will cross again; perhaps our souls have more to learn from one another. I don't know why these glimpses of past catch at me, but I gather them up and horde them away. They're like dense, smooth stones I keep in my pockets, I rarely take them out, but like to run my fingers over them from time to time. I'd feel lost now without that little extra weight.