Entry 02

A memory about Prince.

One thing about life--it is a beautiful thing, but I believe that it was a much more beautiful world before Prince died. 

The last beautiful memory I can remember was the night after Prince died; my mom drove me hours away (I don’t know where it was, but it was far) to see Prince’s movie, Purple Rain. It was being replayed in a vintage movie theater, with old-fashioned seats and red curtains. The drive was dark, bleak, and rainy. 

But what I remember most is the way the rain looked after leaving the movie. The sky was a dark blue, with the moon lightening half of the sky. The lanterns that lit the sky glowed an opaque apricot color, mixing with the grey clouds and deep blue sky, creating almost a photochemical smog. 

The movie’s credits were still rolling, Purple Rain playing behind my eardrums, as my eyelashes dampen from my upward gaze at the stars. The night was foggy. We listened to Prince the entire way home.

I remember that April, it snowed and snowed and snowed. It rained until it snowed, and then it froze and formed ice all over the roads. And then it snowed again, just enough to hide the ice. 

But the strangest thing is, it didn’t stop in April. It snowed in May. I walked across the muddy green grass on a mildly warm afternoon, listening to Prince’s Essential Hits. I felt a cold speck on my arm, glanced down, and saw a snowflake. For the first time, I truly saw a snowflake--all the curves and twists and arches, until it melted onto the skin of my arm. I looked up towards the slowly approaching clouds, eyes wide, as precious flakes danced across my eyelashes and neck. And at that moment, I remember the movie theater, and I remember the music in my head. 

And I think, sometimes it snows in April? Prince should’ve changed the lyrics to sometimes it snows in May.

And this man who touched my soul through music, art, culture, and fashion was gone. The world seemed a little dimmer after that, my first taste of losing someone important.