The Unrecorded Conversation
[typed string0=”There are certain things left unsaid. And while that’s all right, I doubt if either of them will remember anything. In this life, there are just so many– too many– things to remember. They have to remember their own names, their ages, their gender, and how fast the speed limit is on the road right by their house. They have to remember their mother’s name and their favorite flavor of coffee; they need to know their own favorite colors as well as the rest of the rainbow, least they forget what it looks like after it rains. One time one of them forgot what their brother’s face looked like and now they need to recall it every five minutes to make sure that never happens again. They both need to remember they left the sink on in the upstairs bathroom and they might need to call a plumber to handle that. They remember what brand of split-pea soup their dog likes, how many cups are in a litre, and what they might say if they could gather the courage to say it. They want to remember the first album they ever bought, what the sunrise looked like on the coast last summer, and how dew felt on their black shoes. They want to remember everything all at once, especially this; they want to remember this conversation, but they can’t because they have to remember everything else in the world, least someone forgets it all.” typeSpeed=”10″ startDelay=”0″ backSpeed=”40″ backDelay=”500″]