Most Of September, 2004 Day!
You spent it remembering an hour on March 18th, 2004, when she fell asleep in the passenger seat. When she'd fall asleep you'd watch her mouth drop open from her face shut tight, it made you happy to know she could fall asleep in your presence.
"You're not afraid I'm going to steal your stuff or anything," you explained.
"That's no reason to videotape me at night."
You destroyed the tapes, and it turned out to be a great idea because it made you cherish all the more those moments when you caught her napping. Moments like the 60 or so she spent blissfully asleep in the passenger seat of your Honda on March 18th, 2004. You nearly veered off the road a couple of times you were watching her so intently. You thought you could actually see her dreams by the expression on her face. She looked concerned, a little overburdened, like she'd been told to fill a thousand pickle jars with her pee or her sisters would be sent to war. But then again, you might be the only one who has that dream.
By September, 2004, all you had left of her were the memories. You focused tight on that hour on March 18th and you exhausted it. Until you could no longer remember which parts of it were fact and which were fabrications added in the process of recalling a memory.
Today, you remember September, and you're able to shudder and feel a little better off. What have you learned from all of this.
"Don't destroy videotapes?"
Correct.
Happy Most Of September, 2004 Day!
