We cried that night.

Even though the floodgates didn't open.

Little scraps of memories filter in over the next two days.

Sometimes, she remembers a whole event.

Others, it's a tiny piece of a larger puzzle.

It's exciting.

And frustrating.

She remembers me.

Us.

But no big moments.

So when I wake to sniffling in the middle of the night, I wonder if the splotchy memories are equally as bad as no memories. I hate anything that hurts the love of my life.

But that's not it at all.

"Happy tears, E," she says through her tears. "I remember everything."


1 more today.

3 tmr.

1 Sat

1 Sun

3 Monday, and that's all!

*cries*