A memory can be a struggle to recall or a struggle to relive and those are the things I dislike.
Not that all the memories are bad. Just that there are so many I forget and ones I wish I could.
I want to remember every soft curl and eyelash and sweaty little forehead, nuzzled into my shoulder. I want to hold on to every tiny sock and toe and euphemism and funny word they said, and let go of the decibels that were hot and the crucibles that burned loud.
I don't think our minds are meant to hold everything.
There is an arc over all my memories, the ones I forget and the ones He holds onto. Grace that covers and fills in gaps, love that unfolds like a curtain.
I remember that there were bad times but always a Protection, because I haven't forgotten who I was or who He's always been - always the Hand softening the fall and the Hammer refining the fallen.
I remember that in all my lineage, if my genealogy were written, there was never a perfect soul but only those made perfect by bleeding.
And I'm more attentive now. I see more because of pen and pixel and I record what is grace so I can remember better.
{Remembering today with a group of writers who set the timer for five minutes and go for it. You can join us or read what others have to say on remember over at Lisa-Jo's.}