For maybe the first time in my life today (or the first time I really stopped and thought about it), I was struck that my memories might be converging with someone else's. Maybe that just happens naturally when you've been married as long as we have. My husband and I were talking about walking around London. And I asked, "Did we go to a little shop, just down from the British Museum, and have a curry sandwich? You know, the ones you buy in packages, cut into perfect triangles? You get them at the little convenience shops?"
And he thought a minute and said, "We might have done that together, but I know I did that by myself one time."
It struck me as funny that his memories have become a part of me, as surely as my own are.
I can taste the sandwiches. Remember the sound of peeling back the plastic cover. Grabbing that first bite after being ravenous and on my feet walking the streets for hours. Are these my own memories, even of other times or places, applied to memories of a late spring years ago in London? Or did we really do this together in the time and place I'm imagining? Maybe it doesn't matter, in the end. Has this happened to anyone else?
 |
| British Museum |
 |
| Streets of London |
 |
| Streets of Salisbury |
