Thirty Minute post

Recovering what is lost. I was an echo once. This morning was finished in chrome.
I remember distinctly an earthquake in Vermont when I was two. Early morning and for some reason the moon was shaking. A bright lamp on my dresser, each light bulb surrounded by a clown's plastic balloon. Sand trap in the back yard, looking behind me as a large tractor turns in my direction. Rubbing the dirt from a carrot on my pant leg. Toy cars. Some memories are illegitimate. Some that I never experienced but only remember through my parent's stories. The tornado in Witchita Falls, TX, I was in utero. My dad injured from the debris as he ran outside of the house. On his left lower arm you can see the scar. When I was five or six, in CT, I woke up early to find a stray dog in the the basement. I remember looking down the stairs as he looked up and we briefly stared at each other, brown fur, maybe a chocolate lab. He found my stuffed bear over night and had torn out one of its eyes. I kept the bear but we found the dog's owners. Later on that year a handy man was fixing something at our house. While he was there I stole his tape measure. I suppose I felt guilty later on because I was walking through town trying to find the guy so i could return it. My mom spent a few hours trying to find me, and freaking out in the process. Its too bad I have a bad memory. If only i could remember everything and everyone. It seems unfair that we are born with such a deficiency. Why aren't we all perfect rememberers. It should be so that when you come upon a person in the street, say you met once maybe 15 years ago, that you both know each other immediately; and can carry on a conversation as if you'd known each other every day of your lives.