Maybe that's what happens with age, I thought. All your life you force yourself to forget people who have hurt you, but as you get older and weaker their memory surfaces again, like a bubble in the water. You have to surrender, because you feel to tired to fight it and push it down again. And maybe, unexpectedly, you find out that instead, of revamping your anger, those memories produce an unexpected sweetness.

These were the moments that would stick in her memory for years to come, those instants of perfect bliss that nothing else would ever match again.

I think part of me doesn't want to remember him, for fear of missing him too much.

I can't say why some memories float and other sink.