January 25, 2011

My dearest,

I have forgotten what you were wearing this morning. Have I always forgotten? There must be a time when I remembered whether you left our house wearing a cardigan or your favourite jacket, which one is that, again? So many questions and half-remembered answers. The years will do this to you. It has done me.

So many things I could have done, could have accomplished. Places I could have been, books I could have written. And who knows? Maybe I have done them, maybe not. Are things lost if you have forgotten them, misplaced them? Is our past meaningless because we don’t remember all of it? So many questions, and perhaps, regrets, also?

No, I regret nothing. I may forget much, but not our life together, no. Never that.

Yours, ever and always.