Can I calculate the moment, its envelope, or the number of the memories I have forgotten? Even one?

One September fifteenth, oh as I remember it as a Friday, I have entirely forgotten. And yet that then holds as much confidence within me as stating: “this statement is a lie.”

Can I calculate that moment when I looked up at my son and he suddenly seemed just that ever little length taller, at about zero point two four seven three five eight zero millimeters, than my life’s partner? Things fell apart as things grow beyond. That is via a model of my son that was ignoring the layers and swirling of his hair sticking out well beyond his parent’s height.

Do I remember the color of the t-shirt he was wearing that day, yesterday? Oh, as I remember it as a bright reflection with a dash of four point forty seven times ten to the fourteenth power. A kind of red I might assume?

That day, I do remember clearly, was not September fifteenth, no. it was a day, at seven fifty in the evening, within a timezone likely not that of the reader of these words.

I count on it: will not forget.

—animasuri’23