The girl who forgot

She didn't remember the man with six cats four doors down from her house. She didn't remember the game of twister the first time she introduced her husband to her friends. She didn't remember the lovely red lantern she got for Christmas last year. She didn't remember what she wore on her last birthday. She didn't remember the boy with the moon glasses who lived down the street. But she remembered things the others forgot. She remembers the night her friend hushed her to sleep. She remembers the girl who drew her a leaf. She remembers the sound of her father's tummy gurgling. She remembers the wetness of her first kiss. She remembers her friend's wet cheeks. She remembers how a pair of long slender hands fit hers. She remembers the morning she knew how she never wanted to be touched again. She remembers the winding roads lit by a million stars on the way to the hills. She remembers breathing in deep as she drove through a cloud. It's the freshest air you will ever breathe, her grandmother said. And as she held her scaly hands for the last time, she remembered.