It's hard to think about some things just because I know I won't ever have that again.

And the memory connected to it, it's such a simple memory. Nothing huge, nothing life changing.

Just the way the pavement smelled when Amy and I walked back to our apartment after swimming in the pool.

You don't realize it, at the time, but somewhere in that moment is a contentedness I can't find often.

It was just right, with the sun warmed towel wrapped around me and my hair wet and limp. The sun heating the parking lot and Amy right there next to me, laughing.

If I forget everything else, it's that apartment I'll remember. The pool and the lazy, easy feeling being there brought me. Sitting on the balcony reading, cooking dinner. Going to bed with her.