People say that they never forget the day they met the love of their life. I'm different. I can't remember the day nor the week nor the month. I only remember Her.

She was standing there, at some party I assume, but in my minds eye she was standing alone in a room dominated by pure white. Nothing around her mattered. She took over ever part of what I saw. Her memory fought with and mercilessly destroyed the other inconsequential memories of that month until it had found a space big enough within my brain for The Memory of her to be embedded within my consciousness.

Eventually as the years passed so did our fire and our beauty,  replaced with embers and wrinkles. The embers,  not signs of a waning love, but if a strong, steady, rooted love that burns with with consistency and deceptive passion. The wrinkles,  representatives of each kiss, each hug, each wink, each Smile, each frown, and each joyous moment that ever reverberated between us. The twinkles within our eyes fueled by the countless 'I-Love-You' s that we gifted to each other. I started to forget things: where I put my shoes... what I ate for supper... what my job was... my family... my birthday... my name...

I write now not remembering the start of this story. I have holes within my memories... Blank spaces, large and small, where I kept my treasures.

I forgot Her.

She left my memory long ago, preferring my soul. I lie on this bed recalling two things: I can Write and I have a Wife.

She is in my soul. I forgot the day I met her and I forgot her. Yet our love ensured that she would never leave me.