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charm bracelet I read about a woman who remembers everything. It's a curse, she’d said, a disease to have to remember every single moment of your life— whether it be from 3 or 10 or 25 years ago. How exhausting her life must seem, to have the mundane as unforgettable as the remarkable— the opposite extreme of Alzheimer’s, where all you have is this one moment, nothing before. I've filled up two, almost three charm bracelets with the many places I've been; with all my great adventures. But lately, I find myself wanting more silver charms— wee historical markers for all those moments I never want to forget; moments I can recount to the grandchildren on my lap as we finger through each silver glory of my life. “Look, see this precious babe with wings, to remember the day your mother was born. And this one—an edelweiss flower, to remember that Austrian village, where I first fell in love… “Ah, and this one is my favourite—a tiny silver cup… to remember how he curled his hand around the back of my neck, and gently raised me up to his lips…” -9- ...

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