
While there is still time before memory begins its long revision, I want to preserve the way you looked the night of my fiftieth birthday when the band played Not Fade Away. You stood with your hand held tight on the center pole of the tent and leaned toward me on stage, your body dying and rocking to the music, your round face creased in that generous smile I always loved, lips curled high at the corners, eyes narrowed to sharpen he focus of your joy.