I
CHASING MEMORIES BY RACHEL BETTERS
t is nighttime in Krakow, Poland. We just arrived in the heart of the city after dining at a traditional Polish restaurant with too many consonants to pronounce. We are wandering through the Old Town Square, the streets refreshingly calm after the crowds of Eastertime Prague. My friends stop in front of a boy playing Ed Sheeran songs next to an open guitar case; Abby drops in a Polish coin, uncertain of its value. Three days later, the four of us are on a hilltop outside of Budapest, looking down on the sparkling city. It is unlike anything I have ever seen. We are giddy with the cool night air and the astonishing views, snapping photographs with our phones and recording videos in an effort to capture the beauty of the night. Abby leans forward and stretches out her arms dramatically, mocking an ancient statue behind her. Around a year later, we are all reunited. This time we stand in a sterile gray room, the dullness interrupted only by gifts from friends, a handmade quilt sewn with messages and a thick Italy guidebook on the bedside table. One of us is in a hospital bed, the rest gathered around awkwardly. We struggle for something to hold on to as Abby drifts in and out of consciousness. Between her foggy state and the mask on her face, she is often incomprehensible. She mutters about taking something out of the oven, a quiet remnant of her lifelong passion for cooking and baking, but we are unable to hold a true conversation with her until one of us mentions our past trip to Eastern Europe.
“Many people chase memories around the globe or retrace their loved ones’ footsteps in search of closure and connection.” We do most of the talking, but she remains lucid as we remember our travels, laughing quietly at humorous memories and adding in occasional garbled commentary. We keep the conversation light, reminiscing about the attractive tour guide we met in Prague, or the afternoon in Berlin when a boy on our trip spilled chocolate ice
BETTERS, ITALY
