Lifetimes Away

Seven: Creative

Memory Jar

One thought, one memory. That was all I needed to keep. Sixty seconds to run from a heat infested house, and all I grabbed was a jar. This jar, it's everything to me. Every memory is there.

As I lay in the bed, surrounded by white, by people crying and bustling around, I remember my jar. I can barely remember my family, the people I saw everyday, but I remembered my jar.

Someone comes to visit. They have a new foot rhythm, and even though all I can see is black, I knew someone was there.

They asked about the jar, the one held onto with a death grip. Even in my almost unconscious state, there was no way I would forget it. My jar, no one knows anything about it. Only me, my thoughts and my memories.