She, the 5 1/2 year old, is shuffling across the floor wearing one of my slippers (I’m wearing the other slipper) and her nightgown. She’s holding a tiny cat on a tiny bag with a large pink plastic ring on her thumb. Her long curly hair is a twisty mess. She’s talking talking talking. I’m wondering how long I’ll remember this charming moment and how long it will be before it becomes a part of the aggregate charming moments (the antidote to the tantrum moments). I’m pretty sure Evernote (where I store all sorts of ideas and stories) won’t exist in 20+ years. Servers and companies and technologies die, become obsolete, so I’m pretty sure it’s all up to my biology to hold onto bits of stories to recant for Lucy when she’s an adult. I don’t want to remember everything. Just a good mixtape for her. I try to focus all of my attention on some moments to help remember it later. One of my parents once told a story about me-as-a-child, in recent years, at a dinner party. It was a story about my sister, not me. I’ve been so perfectly unacknowledged (we have our own don’t ask don’t tell in our family) for so many years that I didn’t correct the story. Moya and Lucy have sharp memories, so between the three of us, SOMEONE will remember.