Creative Writing

Memory Loss

My name is Lucy Greenland. I’m 56 years old. I have three sisters, and a brother. I had a brown Labrador called Billy. My parents were teachers. I broke my arm once whilst riding my bike. I had a red cast on for eight weeks. My favourite colour is orange. I wanted to be a dancer when I was growing up. Now, I’m a writer. I studied psychology at university. I met up with my friends for lunch yesterday. The five of us were friends from school. We went to a lovely vegan café in the city. I had a roasted vegetable pasta. It was so lovely catching up. I talked about getting a cat from a nearby shelter. We went to visit one, she was a lovely ginger tabby.

Memory. It’s a special thing. You don’t appreciate it until it’s gone. It’s all your favourite books, lyrics to beloved songs. It’s your mum’s mobile number, or your dad’s favourite colour. It has all your past holidays, all your old school friends. It’s the names of your neighbours, all your old addresses. Your memory makes up who you are, because it holds your past experiences, all of which shape you into your present self. Memories can be relived through photos and videos, or diary entries. But the best memories are the ones that come up out of the blue. You’re walking, and you see a woman in a dress, and you think back to that summer of ‘84, when you were on a beach with your family, eating ice-cream and turning golden in the sun.

My name is Lucy Greenland. I’m 56 years old. I have three sisters, and a brother. I had a brown Labrador, but I can’t remember his name. My parents were teachers. I broke my arm once, but all I can remember is that I wore a cast. I’m not sure what colour it was. My favourite colour is orange. I’m a writer. I studied psychology at university. I met up with some old friends last week, but I can’t remember what we did. I’d love to have a cat to keep me company, I saw a ginger tabby somewhere last week.

You hear a name, and you think back to school, laughing in class with your friends at something stupid the teacher did. You remember turning red with the effort not to laugh out loud, the ache in your side from trying to keep it in. The chuckles from the class as you were sent outside.

You try a drink, and you remember the night you had your first kiss. You were in a bar, and a cute guy came over and started chatting. It felt so natural, and you were so happy. It didn’t work out past two dates, but the kiss was nice. You remember feeling free, feeling so much love for everyone around you.

Memory. It’s funny; It can come and go in a blink of an eye. You can walk into a room and forget what you wanted, or you can remember something from when you were four years old. Until, of course, you can’t.

My name is Lucy Greenland. I’m 56 years old. I have three sisters, and a brother. I had a dog called Billy. My favourite colour is orange. I’m a writer. I went to a cat shelter last week.

Memory. It’s a special thing. You don’t appreciate it until it’s gone.


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05/10/2021

About Author

Louise Collins



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