Those aren’t my memories


I find it interesting that Facebook says that I “have memories” to look back on. It would be more accurate to say that Facebook has a memory of me. More often than not what they show isn’t something I remember, whether it’s a photograph or a post or a link, it’s something I posted and forgot about. No longer my memory.

The things I remember, like the way my newborn son smelled immediately after I held him in my arms after being brought into the world, the way he little cries sounded both powerful and delicate; or how cold I was and how I kept telling myself to remember every moment when I stood under a tent in a suburb of Philadelphia watching my mother’s casket lower into the ground. These are my memories. These are things that Facebook can never recall in the same way my mind can because they are me.




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