Letter To Memory

Dear Memory,

You are an elusive creature, aren't you?
I think I know you, fully, totally, completely... but then I find myself walking the streets I walked on as a child, and you rush in showing me so many more sides of yourself. Sides you keep hidden most of the time. Hidden so well it's as if they don't exist.
You are surprising. Freighting. In control. I hear the longer a person know you, the higher the chances they have of losing you. That's where my fear kicks in. I, myself, don't ever want to lose you. Your nuance; your awareness of showing me only what is needed at the moment, is admirable and impressive. How do you make those calculations in that small lille head of yours??
How do you know when exactly to wash over me with your presence? You bring back time, dear Memory. In fact, you ARE time. You are everything in my understanding of time. You are identity, also. Without you, I lose track of that little girl within me. The one that walked those streets, and had that accident happen to her, or that love affair, and that little mishap with a friend. The one that loved going to that one coffee shop and order the toast with walnuts and honey. The one that loved a boy and walked by his workplace every night, to catch a glimpse of him. The one that took her vanilla tea to the beach, with a cigarette in hand and a notebook to write poetry on in the other. That girl was me, back in another time. And YOU are her keeper, dear Memory.
You are MY keeper, dear Memory.

And I am yours. Without you - who am I, really?

Love, 

​Me.