A memory drifts into the wind - each gust carrying it further and further away 
until it is only a spec in the distance
Only by chance may it then be brought back to me - all left to the fate of the winds
But if I can hold onto it
If I can capture it
Not simply as a picture captures a single moment in time
But if I can deliberately seize the details that give the memory its essence, 
then the feelings that make the memory what it is have no choice but to rush back to me
Writing lets me hold on to my precious moments not simply as events 
but as memories of feeling and connection that will stay with me forever