Sometimes I sit here and wonder if they remember. If they remember those days we sat in her basement and laughed until we cried at nothing and at everything because there was nothing else to do but act like we were children still able to run free. Maybe they remember when we found that couch by the train tracks and slept on it until we heard the roars of the upcoming train and screamed until our eyes bulged out. Maybe they remember when we were singing in the car and I told them I loved them like I was going to die tomorrow. Those days when the sun shined so lightly I couldn’t even feel it on my face but the trees sang with the wind and made me smile because just for that glint of a second, something filled in my chest and I felt content with my life even when so many regrets lay in the footsteps behind me. And they swung on those swings and pulled me into a massive hug and we were a pile of bodies just laughing and toying around until the dog came and chased us so we were like mice in the green field and just for that once, feeling numb. Do they remember the day he couldn’t breathe and I cried and cried and played with my dolls all alone and wondered if he was gone, what I would do without him? They must remember when we jumped around at the playground in our dresses and everyone was staring at us because we weren’t afraid to get dirty. And what about that day when I accidently broke a bracelet in the store and told the lady, and everyone was so terrified that we’d go to jail when really she nodded with a smile and I helped her pick up the pieces. I wonder if they remember helping me pick up those pieces. Well I just dropped that bracelet again, and I feel like when I try to remember I won’t pick up everything that’s been dropped. I won’t remember our memories. Will they?