If I were to actually attempt to recall the event, I don't think I could. The memory returns when I least expect it. A moment of tension during a movie. A certain type of tile. Leaving for the airport when it's still dark. Flashing lights in the sky.

Any one of those things bring back The Memory.

Oddly enough, it's not a bad memory. It's exciting. Something is Happening.

I see myself after I've died being handed the story of my life as if were a puzzle inside a giant eggshell. I'll crack it open, lay it out and all the pieces will be there. That thought is as satisfying as peeling paint off a cracked door.