I remember, you (revised memory)

I remember, remembering. Is it strange how every memory I have, even years before our paths would cross, somehow reminds me of you?

I remember Harmony; running through fields of gold, gazing up through starry skies into the heavens, wading through cool rushing waters, and picking wild himalaya berries until my hands were stained purple.

I remember light, pouring the throught transparent curtains of the sealing room in the St.George Temple when I was just two, dreaming while the sun was still high in the sky over twenty years later, and gazing out over the wind swept valleys of Zion.

I remember sitting quietly, on the cliffs over hanging the lake at Lehn's escape, mesmerized by the ripples, encumbered by the scent of pine, scheming about destiny, and serenaded by the beckoning mystique of the present unknown.

I remember the surpassing love of God every time it rained, the night I opened the call, the apple orchard behind the Harmony house, and the rush of salty tears for people in Washington I'd never met and suddenly loved.

I remember the toil and labor, the growth, the change, the falls....

I'll forever remember that Sunday afternoon in Sandy, barefoot on the kitchen floor, sweet orange slice kisses, shelling soybeans, sips of crimson raspberry smoothies, and the scent of herb crested salmon.

I'll remember the cool damp grass in the yard, summersaults and cartwheels, picking flowers for Grandma, paper rockets pieced together with thick blue tape, and gazing up into a new evening sky.

It's like remembering a happiness I've never know. Tiny hands, mouths stuffed with greenbeans, a peace, a contentment, two of the most darling little toe headed boys in all the world, the simplistic fortaste of exquisite joy, and you.