“I like to remember things my own way. How I remembered them, not necessarily the way they happened.”

“It’s up to you. Everyone should get to choose their own way, and that’s all I mean by yelling. But I shall choose to remember you, and it would be nice if it went both ways. That’s how it generally goes in my country.” But does it? September thought. If a body is hurt, they try to forget the person who hurt them and never think about the pain again. Remembering aches, like when I remember my father. It’d be so much easier to never wonder about him. I’m sure he remembers my face, but it’s hard to remember his, when he’s been gone so long! Perhaps memory is a thing that everyone involved has to work at, like stitching up a big quilt out of everything that ever happened to you.”

“The most I can ever do is write things down. To remember them. The details. To honor them in some way.”

“I remember making that vow, the one not to forget. Not to remember what happened, but to remember who I was and how I felt.”

“But then again, maybe bad things happen because it’s the only way we can keep remembering what good is supposed to look like.”

“On the way home I was mugged and hit my head and got amnesia. I don't remember anything that happened before yesterday. I found your address in my wallet. I couldn't remember my name. I still can't. Let's go out and get new ones. My treat.”