If I were to have a legacy, I wouldn’t want to be famous. I’d want my legacy to be memories passed down from friends and family. I want them to ask each other if they remember when I did something. To me, legacies are the moments that will always be suspended in time. Water droplets each with their own story. Whispering them to you when they hit the ground. Splash!  Life is just a collection of moments; memories that really mean the most to us. 

The smell of a stranger's perfume, and you’d remember how that specific scent trailed behind my bright fleeting eyes and laughter. It would take you back to times we were together; the ferris wheel when we screamed at the top of our lungs while looking out across the sea of city lights. Our laughter, an aura around us. Maybe you’d think back to the soft mornings when you would wake up next to me, and my perfume would stick to the bed sheets, sweet as honey. From the smell of a stanger’s perfume, you’d be taken hostage as a time traveler.

When you drive down the highway, singing to your favorite songs, I hope you think of me. Flashing yellow lights, heads out the window, the tunnel speeding by us. That song we were singing? You think of it everytime you pass through a tunnel. Or, maybe you think of me when the songs on the radio shift to quiet songs, my achilles heel. Remember how I would sway and shut my eyes, just to drink that song like it was the last drop of water in the world. 

My favorite colors were shades of green. Forest green that reminded me of fairy tales and misty morning moods. Sage green reminded me of plants, all that I would care for with my green thumb. I wonder, if you look around at the green world, and think of me.

Taste. To my lover, if you taste fruits on your tongue, think of my lips. My lipstick, how it would tint your lips slightly and leave the fruity lipstick on you like aftershave. To my friends, when the tea burns the back of your throat, allow yourself to travel back in time. Remember and feel that first night I gave you that tea. How the world was crying loud and hard, but we were watching in awe of her beauty. Wrapped up in blankets together on the porch, sipping that tea.

So, every time the sunsets, take in the beauty. Wonder to yourself if that is me, painting you a picture every night. When the rain pitter patters against your windows, slow down and look at the world. Burn your throat, but don’t grimace, smile, for I was the one who burned your throat first, an introduction to new tastes. Scream at the top of your lungs; on ferris wheels and in tunnels. For me, please.