Memory

”That is not how it happedepot public domainned!” Miriam interjected. I was taken aback.

It was Jake Palmer again. Jake Palmer, who sat next to me in study hall, who was forever passing me notes when he wasn’t called out by the principal or the sheriff or some other authority. Jake Palmer, who also seemed to have a thing for my sister Miriam (two years my senior). There was that day the three of us ended up down at the abandoned train depot – Did she remember? Miriam’s mind had painted a vivid and opposite picture of what had happened. And Miriam insisted that her version was correct.

“So how do you know that the way you remember it is accurate?” I asked her.

“Because I remember it clearly. I see it vividly in my mind to this day. I’ve recalled it many times over the years.”

“But the memory I have of the same occurrence is equally clear.”

“Well you’re obviously mistaken.”

“How could that be, when my memory is as lucid as yours?”

“Sometimes people’s memories get distorted over time, yet feel just as real and clear as the original incident. You see that a lot with witnesses to crimes; lots of times ‘eye witness’ accounts can’t be trusted, even when the witness insists they know what they saw.”

“So that’s what happened to this particular memory of mine – it’s gotten distorted over time.”

“Yes.”

“But how do we know that my memory has gotten distorted and not yours?”

“Because I remember it clearly.”

And that was Miriam’s sure and final answer on the matter … definitive for all the world to see.

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