When I was a child, I thought grapefruit would taste like purple.
Perhaps I thought this for years,
or only once,
or not at all.
Memory is tenuous like that, all shifting colors and morphing shapes.
I can only truly know what I know now, and sometimes, not even that.
Perception is unreliable.
Yet, here we are, re-membering our lives, piecing back together who we were, how we felt, what someone else was at another time. Our memories like a picture of a picture of a picture. Each time we look at it, it changes ever so slightly. Each time we add to it who we are now.
Memory is not static; it is a living artwork.
And so… today I brush a layer of love on my memories of you, and me, and this life.
And tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, it becomes more true.