On that last Wednesday, I can remember that Michael and I had spaghetti for lunch, that we had an UNO tournament that I won, that Michael snuck out of bed for one last goodnight smooch, and that he was excited to watch Clone Wars as he got ready for night-night. I can remember a portion of our lunch conversation where he wanted me to tell him a funny story. So I told him the story of my Halloween. When I was a witch and was scared that people would really think I was a witch and so I made my mom take me home early. We laughed.
But I can't remember what we had for dinner.
I have searched my memory for this fact. I can't remember. And that terrifies me.