On June 14, 2014, I married a couple in Claremont. I remember meeting them a year prior to their wedding. I sat with them in a coffee shop talking about their relationship, asking them about stories from their past. As they recounted one story, it would lead to another, and then another. There was a certain cadence to the whole process. That is until one memory resurfaced. I noticed the effects of its arrival. His eyes opened a little wider, his head stood up taller, and his smile grew.

“There was this one night when I just started making up a story as I was texting her.”Boom!

The memory hit her hard, and she joined in the retelling of this account.

“This story went on for days and we would both add to it and played off what the other had written. And it was all in text.”

There was something about this memory that tapped into a very precious part of their heart. As they retold what they could remember, all the excitement and joy from that exchange was communicated to me, not by their words, but by their bodies.

The joy of that memory encased them.It was a special memory.However, at the end of their retelling came the lament.

Phones had been upgraded. Old text lost. Fragments of stories now only live in their memories.I wonder if it’s better that way. I wonder if the important part wasn’t the actual text, but two young loves getting caught up in a creative whirl, feeding off each other’s energy and excitement, not just for the story but also for each other.I wonder if they actually had the text and were able to read it, detached from the very early part of a forming relationship and from the excitement of a new love, would it be as good as they remembered?I don’t know.The story is lost. Only fragments of their story live in their memory, but the feelings surrounding those text exchanges live on.It was magical! It was the best story ever!

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