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For Eric Drobinski, L-S '99
When I got the call,
I went looking for
Eric, and found him
on my wall,
in a collage of Thoreau field trips,
in Concord, then later near the slopes
of Monodanock, that lonely peak, where we
made camp. In one frame,
he stood quietly in the
back of the crowd, tall enough to still
be seen, so serious, in the other, he was
suddenly riding on Fliss' back. I remember
now how he tried to make a fire in
the rain, after we all had fled to the
tents, a source of warmth in
our lives, and him going barefoot
with Terry, the two real woodsmen
in our camp that day, at home in this cold,
wet place I so much wanted to love. When I ran out
of photos, I turned to memories, whole albums worth:
lacrosse, Walden, the cabin, the tent, the classes,
the road trip, the presence, Leaves, the gentleness, the simple
human kindliness, and I sat
there, like on a tree stump, just turning
the pages, the fire flaring
up from embers, my face reddening,
aglow, sitting across the campfire, such a good person to sit
with, warmed by the memories where
even those lost
are forever found.
September 22, 2002