[W.F. Lantry]

Originally Posted by Maryann Corbett

I can't remember even one.

Exactly. We remember, fondly, good times, and our memories fail us. After a while we talk ourselves into believing our good memories.

And we forget the bad ones. As with broken bones, months or years later. We don't recall the sharp pain, the feeling of vulnerability. We just have a vague memory of it being difficult. I remember I couldn't pick up the christmas tree with my broken arm, but I don't remember the exact feeling that made me curse when I tried.

Best,

Bill