Blanking


 

There are things in life that you tell yourself that you will never forget.

For instance, the name of people you grew up with in school from kindergarten to high school. Living only blocks away for over a decade and you saw them every day. Then one day, years later, you see them in public.

The look in their eyes is the same as yours. Pensive recognition. It says, “Hi there familiar stranger. Are you going to acknowledge me? Because, if so, I will smile and wave but if we are going with blank stares then that is cool too.” After one of you flinches the thought changes to, “Oh shit. You are going to talk to me. Okay let’s smile and make generic small talk.”

You try to shake the details out of your brain. Who is this person? This person that you are compelled to talk with.

Damn you memory.

You can remember that she had a cat named Patches and her dad always had a track suit on while he checked the mail but not her damn name. “Sammie, Swammie,… Oh here it is on the briefcase. Samsonite. I was way off.”

Then something really classy happens like the mystery person calls you by your name immediately. You have to say, “Hi! How are you!” You both know that they won the memory duel.

All the memories are there. They just need to be reassembled. To be gathered together in one location.

You need a recollection.

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