Shenti

Sometimes I wish I don't remember things well. I don't know why I remember small details (while I forget the more important stuff) in everyday things. I'm like this memory-keeper who's burdened with remembering stuff others have forgotten. And it sucks to be so affected by all these little things because then it makes me wonder-- do I have a life?

I love it when, for a change, I don't remember the name of the familiar-looking person who has greeted me in the mall. When the greeter (or the greetee) doesn't remember my name, sometimes I pretend I don't remember hers (or his) either--when in fact, I can recall a dozen details about her, casually dropped in some past, random conversation.

I admit, I forget a whole lot of other things. But I remember that at 3 years old, I looked up at the window, and gazed at our papaya tree in our yard. It was dusk, and the tree was being slowly engulfed by shadow. And as I froze that instant, I remember vowing to myself that I'd always remember that moment no matter what. And everyday, I practiced remembering it until I didn't have to practice anymore.

I guess I learned how to remember things too soon.