“Mommy, can you check for monsters under my bed?” I asked when I was 3 years old, as I clutched to my mother’s arm.
I remember that day, that was 12 years ago, and I was about to ask the same thing, except the monster was memories of a boy.
“Mommy, how do I forget about him? How do I forget about that monster that broke my heart? How do I forget the days that we spent laughing? How do I forget my love for him? How do I forget all those days that I spent thinking he’s the one? How do I forget about all those tears I cried when he was sick? How do I forget the way he looked at me that one summer night? How do I forget his dreamy, blue eyes? How do I forget his amazing blonde hair and that angel soft touch? How do I forget mommy, how?" I asked clutching her arm just like I did when I was 3 years old.