I Remember it Differently

When I was young, I told a group of friends

about a humorous incident one day,

that took place involving me. As I told the tale,

their attention I could see, held them rapt and eager

for what I had to say.

I delighted in the reaction and to savour more attraction,

I embellished - just a little - a kind of play.

The appreciation when I was done,

had proven to be a lot of fun,

and I put away the story for another day.

When next the story surfaced,

a few years down the road, I recounted my adventure

from the memory I had stowed.

An accent here, a flourish there

and the audience was kind. And this time

when it was put away, more facts had been refined.

Through the years it was retold, often with success,

but by then the actual memory became something less.

If we make a conscious change in facts that we perceive,

that is how they're stored for the next time we retrieve.

And each time thereafter a little something more is lost.

Like editing and saving files, most times it doesn't matter,

but sometimes there's a cost.

Then one day a friend reminds you

of that anecdote you told; he'll never forget it,

he tells you with a smile. Then proceeds to tell you

snippets from his own memory file.

You've told your tale so often, and that's not what you recall.

Not the entertaining piece you knew; not your tale at all.

Since that time I made a change and though

my memory may be stressed, I maintained

a daily journal, for which today I'm blessed.

Not for every single day, but my adventures along the way

are all hard copied, so those memory losses I can defray.

A/N: This came about during a recalling of old memories with friends of a like age. :O)