She reflected on how people make a big fuss about holidays, memorial dates, birthdays... How they attach themselves to big events. How all these big things clutter the vanishing memory that clings to remain relevant in her brain.
It's the little things that hurt the most. That folding of the laundry that is done in silence, that underwear that doesn't need to be bought, the socks that will go lost forever, the shoes resting in the closet with no wear, the recipes that go untasted.
In these insignificant moments and when the absence is most evident. There is no memory that can exactly convey what would her daughter do, what would her son say. Those moments in which she looks around and there is nothing but a cat and dog that got tired of waiting for her and resorted to curl on the bed.
