You and I have different memories. Both of which are true, but they are
so very different.
You remember me crushing your childhood dreams by sitting you down and informing
you that it's time to stop believing in Santa Clause because he's not real.
I remember your inquisitive, ready-to-know-the-truth face asking me to confirm
what you already knew was true because your best friend had informed you
that Santa is not real.
The truth is, I don't even remember that interaction but I know it would've never-ever-in a million years been my intention to crush your dreams or steal your innocence.
Your memories of me and my memories of you tell very different stories.
There is no right or wrong memory. Only the impression that was left from a moment
in time that folds into the fabric of our being.
We create our own worlds. We create our own realities.
And our memories validate the story we want to tell.
What story do you want to tell, my beloved?