Say You'll Remember Me

by Abby Jimenez

I did like dogs, though. I liked all animals, but especially dogs. We didn’t deserve them—and some people deserved them less than others.

Well-intentioned stupidity is still stupidity.

“Because most people don’t say what they think. Animals do. They’re transparent. Their body language doesn’t lie. They always tell you the truth if you pay attention. People lie all the time.”

“That there is nothing more beautiful than being a witness to someone’s life. To know them inside and out and be with them through everything, share the same memories. Memories are everything. I want that.”

“I can’t stand people who are rude to service workers,” she said. “It’s the best litmus test there is. That and putting your cart away at the grocery store.”

“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 know. I’ve always loved you,” he said simply. “I think I couldn’t forget you because I remember you from a different lifetime. And I loved you then too.”

Maybe that’s the last thing we forget. Or we never forget it at all. Not really. We lose the words to say it. We lose the ability to show it. But we never lose the ability to feel it or recognize it when we see it. Love is the brightest color in a gray world.