That which must not be forgotten

If I am to write that which must not be forgotten I have to write about the way the rain sounds on the roof of my converted barn bedroom. How a crow wakes me in the mornings by banging his beak into the window, and how I am so snug under the duvet when the air is cold outside.

I’d say it must never be forgotten that my little dog snores and dreams like an angel, and her name is Angel. I’d have to write about the taste of cooked apple, the brightness of stars, the coolness of moonlight.

And, of course, the scent of lavender and the surprise of red against green and the sweetness of breathing when you’re falling asleep, and you’ve had a beautiful day and other waits for you tomorrow.

I’d have to write the whole world for none of it should ever be forgotten. What a task I have set myself, to write the whole world. All I’m asking for is an eternity to complete my mission. Maybe that’s what the end of existence is - everything remembered, nothing forgotten, on and on for eternity.