Isn't it funny how much of our lives will be forgotten? I think it is. We spend so much time immersed in these little moments that they will soon float downstream, never to be seen again. At least I do. I imagine my mind vaguely resembles the moon, at least in a metaphorical sense. Meteors roar from the cosmos and crash into me, and the collateral damage erases days and months of memories in favor of the impression of a single catastrophic event. Sometimes I feel like I'm a crater where all kinds of memories once were. Every now and then I unearth a fragment of some old thought, only to see it dissolve in my hands. It's hard to feel bad anymore. Eyes rolling! I never know when the next strike will come, or what damage it will cause. Forgive me, if you can, the emblematic speech. I spend a great deal of time thinking about what memories mean to me, as I only have a precarious knowledge of a precious few. I think I was dancing when the first meteor hit. This is what Marco says. He says I was over the sink, washing dishes, singing and dragging my feet towards something. None of us remember the song. I remember an ambulance; he remembers me slurring, losing my balance, falling, and continuing to sing while he called 911. I don't mind that particular crater; it all seems terrible. I like to think I left my old life dancing; At least I know I left in style. I'm still here, but things have changed since the stroke. It's hard to feel comfortable with who I am because I feel a great void where so much of me has been lost. I have my own thoughts as they come to mind right now, but they fly by too quickly for me to keep up. In this way, I feel that I am who I am only in passing, with no guarantee of how I feel about myself… middle of paper… my return to humanity. Mark will be redeemed. My family will be redeemed. They have built bridges over my canyons and their labor will be repaid by my independence and the guarantee of a return. One day soon, I will take my place in the sky. At first they may only see a sliver, but during their period of darkness, they will look up and be rewarded by the fiery glow of a full moon. I will project my light to guide their path, and in the end they will be redeemed. Until then, I'll be here in my comfy socks, covered in sesame and poppy seeds, on this couch with Mark. His hand rests on my leg under the blanket, and we are bathed in the dull glow of the television as a movie plays softly from across the room. Every second spent in his company is a step towards self-acceptance and a new path. Every moment that passes, forgotten, projects me towards the stars.