monarchs of memory

short story

I remember the first time I deliberately tried to make a memory—a sort of meta-remembrance of the power of remembering—and the memory formed was thus:

It’s a snapshot of my foot, sandy from a day at the beach and tanned from many days at the beach, on the floor of my mom’s white Dodge Spirit in a ray of Atlantic sunlight. ‘Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)’ b…