Say You'll Remember Me

by Abby Jimenez

“Because if you were my wife you would be my world. Everything starts with you and ends with you. Anything else is just the stuff that happens in the middle.”

You think that it’s the big memories you should be chasing—and it is in a way. Birthdays and vacations and special occasions. But the small memories are the fabric of your life, the ones so inconsequential that you don’t even remember them. You just remember how you felt when you were making them.

I stood there staring at the Christmas tree in the corner of the living room. All the heirloom family ornaments that Grandma always packed up on January 1, hanging on the tree where she put them. There were piles of presents sitting there. Some were for her. She’d made tamales. It would be the last time we’d eat them.

wouldn’t be worth living if I didn’t remember you.”

“Some things are worth remembering, Samantha. No matter how much they hurt.”

“Normally I wouldn’t believe anything nice someone said to me,” I said quietly. “But it must be true or I wouldn’t have you.”

I wanted the luxury of mundane cohabitation.

Love is the brightest color in a gray world.