THE MEMORY

The point from A to B grows longer and thinner and blurs considerably with time. 46 years ago I was placed upon a stool, lights were flashed, and a photograph was taken. I don't remember what kind of stool I sat on, the brightness of the flashes, or anything of the event. All that I recall is  by what my newer experiences and logic tells me, and any lack of information, I make up the difference. That way, I can still see the lights flash before me like it was yesterday. When I remember like that, I condense time and fold it like a blanket, causing one event to touch another completely unrelated event. layered on top of other events. The photograph reminds me of the flashes of light, which in turn, reminds me of the death of my Mother, which can cause me to remember dropping Deracell batteries into April mud. And so on...On this temporal bed of memories, the only truth about this picture is that I marveled that my mouth resembled the shape of a pickle when I first saw it.