A Modest Memory I Want to Keep

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Last night, sometime after 2 am, I woke up at Alan’s on my side of the bed, which just happens to be against the wall. The lights were on, my glasses still on my face, and my new Kindle rested on my chest. I never have my glasses on me; I just happen to have them this week because of a sexy case of pink eye. Also, the Kindle is a new thing. I tell you this because I always read before bed but at Alan’s, it’s sans corrective lens and with paperbacks. Normally, I would just push the book aside and conk out.

So there I laid, feeling quite sleepy and groggy, and the bedside table on his side of the bed seemed so far away. Just as I was trying to gather up the energy to place my glasses and Kindle far from harm’s way, I heard Alan stirring in the living room.


“… Linda? You called me?”

“Uh huh.”

He peeked in and I was trying to mentally formulate my ridiculous request. Seriously, what kind of bratty favor is that to ask? Can you please take my glasses and book pleaseeeee? Luckily, he somehow knew and saved me the shame.

“You want me to grab your glasses and Kindle?”


Dude gingerly plucked the glasses off my face and grabbed my reader. He then whispered good night, turned off the lights, and closed the door.

The last thing I remember is smiling in awe and appreciation.

This was such a tiny moment.

So tiny that I felt the need to document it for safekeeping.

Question: What was the last seemingly mundane memory you’ve had that you want to keep?