What You Remember and What You Forget

What will you remember about your life when all is said and done? Will it be the people who accompanied you on your journey? Will it be the places you explored and traveled to along the way? Will it be a cat or a dog that showed you the meaning of true friendship? Will it be the last word spoken to you by someone you will never get to speak to again?

What would you choose to remember if your memory could be wiped clean of just one thing that happened to you in your entire life?

Would it be the fist time your parents told you they loved you?

Would it be the first time you realized you loved yourself?

Would it be the first time you held your child?

Would it be the first lips that brushed against yours?

Who would you choose to remember?

What would you say to them, if you could have them there right in front of you for just a few moments?

Isn't it amazing how much detail we are capable of remembering when we shut out all the noise, close our eyes, and feel our way around the fragments of our past?

And isn't it ridiculous that we take so long to lock up the stuff that worries us sick to our stomach, and throw away the key?

In the end what you remember and what you forget, is what gets you from here to there.

It's the voice of a loved one, long gone, whispering in your ear,

"Let it go."