Sitting in the corner booth of the Old Town Diner, I've got today's paper spread out on the table and a yellow marker in hand – wanted, apartment for rent.  I'm on my third cup of coffee when Terry walks in. He sidles up and places an arm around my shoulders. “Whatcha doin', Ruby, my jewel? You’re just the person I’ve been wantin' to see.”

I heave a sigh in his direction. “Trying to find some place to live. I don’t think I can take another minute with my mother.”

Just in the past week, I've reconnected with people I haven't laid eyes on in more than 20 years,  both encounters courtesy of Facebook.

Since I work in memoir, it's interesting to discover how differently we remember the stories that we carry forward into our future.