Experiencing it is one memory. Retrieving its memory can produce almost an infinite amount of versions, depending on both when, and in which emotional state we find ourselves at the time of retrieval.
Our history is constantly shifting, re-writing and re-telling itself.
It can soften, or harden. It can be told with kindness or with anger. What was formerly excrutiating or embarrassing can become one of the lightest and funniest points of conversation. Equally, a funny moment can become a painful trauma when retold, something we might never be able to shake.
I never saw my past as shifting in sand; as a storyteller, I should have seen this long ago.
Today, I am grateful for:
1. Catching a cold at some point in the last three days. It tells me I have enough immunity to keep fighting all of the things in my body. Also, wtf is happening, body?
2. Strong teeth. Thanks for not cracking today when I bit down on two pieces of glass which had been baked into the fresh bread.
3. Not giving up. I wrote an entire other piece thanking you for hanging out with me daily, but saying I was stopping the piece a day. I am exhausted, but I’m still here.
Tunisia | Feb 24, 2019