There are these tiny pebbles on my bedside nightstand… I don’t remember where they’re from. Or, at least, not all of them. I might remember where one is from if I took the time to pick it up and analyze it again. Then again, I’d likely remember them all even if I just examined one. They’re a lot like memories, these pebbles, or perhaps like friends. They sit in a place of distinction next to my bible and to-do lists and hand cream, and yet I forget why they are so clearly distinguished until the point I take the time to acknowledge them, and then the details flood back to me, pretending to never have been lost in the first place. Then I smile and I nod off to sleep with all my friends and memories and tiny pebbles all in their right and proper place.