I had a full night, jam packed with moments, the kind you want to really hold and keep, like letters from grandparents. I don’t remember hands, but touch. I strain to see eyes, but I get stares. Sandwiched into my down comforter, it is all unwound, curling like one long strip of apple peel.
Things were cloudy, and I was unsure of what was said, almost like dreaming. But I was awake reaching for the slivers of insight, head cokced. I should have remembered. And what I did remember didn’t seem right, didn’t reflect my smile, or my giggle into my pillow. I tried to recount the moments, glimpses, and touches. I hardly remember even the simplest things. It was like a sliver. I fell asleep smiling.