Things I don't remember
is it considered a listicle if nothing is numbered?
I don’t remember when a nap became a privileged treat and not just viewed as quiet time for the adults.
I don’t remember what I thought about reality before The Truman Show existed.
I don’t remember ever freely participating in classroom discussions.
I don’t remember all the stories that have been shared with me over the years.
I don’t remember how many times I’ve heard oh, you’re studying English, you must want to be a teacher.
I don’t remember ever saying no to a walk.
I don’t remember when junk-food Fridays were no longer a thing.
I don’t remember when Converse became my shoe of choice.
I don’t remember playing tee-ball.
I don’t remember how old I was when I became a Chapstick addict.
I don’t remember when I fell in love with the sound of a piano.
I don’t remember when I realized women are divine.
I don’t remember when I had my first grown-up cup o’ coffee.
I don’t remember this place.
I don’t remember how old I was when I realized that not everyone’s world is blurry like mine.
I don’t remember why I had gone in the other room.
I don’t remember which book made me fall in love with books.
I don’t remember my 5th grade teacher.
I don’t remember going to the ocean for the first time.
I don’t remember being on a plane for the first time.
I don’t remember why I said that.
I don’t remember saying that.
I don’t remember much from my 21st birthday celebration.
I don’t remember, of all the slammers and pogs we had, which were my favorite.
I don’t remember my first R-rated film.
I don’t remember the first time I tried a cigarette.
I don’t remember what all these songs sounded like before they reminded me of my wife.
I don’t remember the first place I went after getting my driver’s license.
I don’t remember my best friends from elementary school.
I don’t remember growing older.
I remember events happening and my naivety about life dwindling and reality becoming more visible than ever and the yearn for a simple life in the woods growing stronger as time passed. But when did time pass? When did all the years in school end? When did the crowd die down? When did I start forgetting? When was I suddenly in my 30s and married? Was it even sudden?
Everything feels so gradual in the moment, but then soon everything is gone and passed in the blink of an eye — events, moments, life. Everyone told me throughout childhood that it would all be gone in the blink of an eye. I had brushed these words off as a kid because what do adults know anyway? But the adults were right. I was forewarned and didn’t care and didn’t think twice.
Every passing second contributes to that ephemeral blink.
We’re in the midst of it now and I still don’t know how I got here.
Thank you for reading. I also don’t remember writing a short story I had written many moons ago about an old woman moving into an assisted living facility, but I’m thankful I re-discovered it and am in the process of editing and adding to it with the hopes of posting it on here in the near future, probably in chapter installments, so you should probably subscribe so you don’t miss that excitement. Please also consider supporting me by sharing my musings with others. Cheers!
Great piece. Memory is a weird thing indeed but it’s always exciting to dig it
Beautifully articulated. I resonated strongly with this piece. There is a stealthiness in how time creeps up on us, toying with the threshold of what we can and can’t remember.