I remember so many things. I remember my mom and dad taking me to college my freshman year. I remember the heart-stopping terror when it occurred to me, some two miles away from the campus, that they were going to be leaving me there, alone. 

I remember ridiculous amounts of trivia about my favorite television show. I remember song lyrics and quotes and character names from countless movies and musicals. I remember that one of the first reasons I thought the boy I would eventually marry was adorable was that he could quote from Bugs Bunny cartoons. 

I remember sitting and talking with my mother-in-law and my husband only a few days after our first baby was born. I remember feeling very much like my regular self, the self I had known for twenty-seven years. And I remember being struck by a lightning bolt realization. You have a baby sleeping in the other room. You will never, ever be the same person again. 

For all the things I remember, though, there are things that seem to slip from my mind much too easily. Some of those things are small. I don’t remember why I came into a room. I don’t remember which days my co-worker and I agreed to bring our lunches to work. Sometimes I don’t remember where I’m going with a story right in the middle of telling it. But some of the things that I don’t remember are very large and they slip from my mind when I need them most. 

Things like: God loves me. God cares what happens to my family. God is there. God is good. Truth that I know with all of my heart, soul, mind, and strength…but sometimes I forget what I know. That’s why I write.