I need them.

I yearn for them.

I, at times, ache for them.

Them, being my memories.

At times, I start to think I've forgotten. 

That I've lost them. 

And its at those times I feel like I've lost a piece of my soul with them.

But, then, a glimmer of hope. A sliver of faith remains when it finally happens.

I remember.

I remember when I was eight years old and my my first best friend, Sarah. 

We met at daycare, on the gymnasium. The monkeybars to be exact.

I remember when I was seven and my paralyzed grandfather had asked me to get him a glass of orange juice.

After doing so, we would sit in similar leather, reclining chairs and just enjoy each other's company.

I remember after he passed away, my grandmother had all of her grandchildren learn Amazing Grace--and the macarena.

I remember his funeral. My cousins and I were singing Amazing Grace, when suddenly one by one they walked off the "stage" crying.

I remember standing alone, "being brave" and singing for my papa when the priest eventually joined in so I wasn't alone.

I remember moving to Kentucky and then back to Pennsylvania--and ultimately remembering how clueless I was about my parents dissipating relationship and how it sizzled down to nothing but a money feud that continues on today.

I remember the best friends I made at Scott County, Keystone, and Clarion and how I managed to escape those friendships with my constant desire for change because I'm sure someone will leave me in time--so its easier for me to leave first and avoid being hurt.

I remember May 11th, 2013 as the day my life changed, and me still wondering if it was for the better or worst.

I remember my brother's monotone voice on the phone, saying our mother had a stroke, and my life suddenly moving in slow motion but also happening about me so quickly.

I remember the cold wall and floor supporting a motionless me for about five minutes until I could comprehend the words spoken to me on the phone and by concerned adults and friends.

I remember the quiet car ride to Pittsburgh, contemplationg everything while not being able to remember the last thing I said to my mom.

I remember the doctor at the hospital telling us that she had a brain aneurysm rupture and would need open brain surgery.

And then...

I remember the falling of my tears. I felt like I was leaking and damaged. Those damn tears never stopped until she was home over a month later.

I need them. 

I yearn for them.

And, yes, I still ache for them at times.

Sad, angry, or happy. I don't care about the emotion surrounding them.

Any memory will suffice, as long as I keep remembering them and experience those rare moments in life that are so memorable that I can imagine it as if it was yesterday.

Its memories like this that I keep each and every piece of my soul within, 

and can be sure I never forget those who have changed me into who I am today.

Memories are the key to accessing what one holds near and dear to their being.

Memories, are the key to me and my humanity.