I don’t remember

I don’t remember hitting Graham on the head with a Marmite bottle when I was two; but he remembers.

I don’t remember learning to write and I don’t remember how I felt when I first went to school in Waterfalls.

I don’t remember when I first started on a spiritual path and I don’t remember what set me off.

I don’t remember when I decided to become a student at university – when I was 48.

I don’t remember the name of the tree behind the garage at the Big House.

There is something else I don’t remember but I’ve forgotten what it is, so it couldn’t have been very important. I wonder if I ever will remember?

I don’t remember when I decided I enjoyed writing. I don’t remember when I realised that I could write and that some other people liked to read what I’d written.

Not remembering is different from forgetting.

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I don’t remember

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