How Could I Forget?

  How Could I Forget?

I’m starting to ask myself this a lot. Maybe not explicitly in those words, but in thoughts much like this. And of course, this question isn’t really asked aloud. No this is just a question for me while racking my own thoughts about me. A way I can get those jammed, jumbled, and angry thoughts out. Because damn there is a lot.

I don’t really talk too much about a lot in my life. Because talking about that would make me cry. And I don’t like crying about myself. I try not to be pitiful. So I just try asking myself this question from time to time:

How could I forget? 

That is the question I am asking, especially as I examine a lot of the things I forgot. Maybe forgot is the wrong word. Because I still feel it. I might have forgotten the exact thing, but I remember a lot of what was around it. Like maybe the smell or the taste of that thing. 

And I don’t think nostalgia is the right thing for this word. No, that would imply that the things that I forgot were always sweet—something that I’d like to remember—and that is not always the case. No, not always the case. Like I don’t like to remember the things I fear, the things that turn my stomach and cause me unease. 

My remembering can be triggered in many ways—my empathy, my experience, even my disgust. And every single time (whether that feeling makes me feel good…or not) I have to ask myself: “how could I forget?”

Forget what was and is. Forget what will be and why. Forget those things that made, broke, shook, expelled, invited, turned, grounded, melted, and shaped me. Forget those tears and that warm hug. Those nights I fought and those days I didn’t. The sweat and the chill. The laughter and the howls. The songs of mockingbirds and robins and crows and cardinals. The mosquito’s bite and the butterfly’s kiss. How could I forget those things? 

And usually I don’t have an answer—most of the time because I don’t deal in excuses. That can be lazy. But even after all that guilt of forgetfulness, I take immense gratitude in remembering. Because remembering helps me to remind. And Lord knows…we need that kind of grace.