I threw away some clothes

Socks, bikini bottoms,
the t shirt with the pig's face,
the button down polo shirt,
and dear Emma took away some dresses
but I held on to three gauzy girly blouses.
Emma said, "She was such a scavenger."

Her black sneakers sit in the top drawer of her dresser,
because when she comes back as Didion says
she will be able to find them

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How Dina Aunty relished her memories. Mummy and Daddy were the same, talking about their yesterdays and smiling in that sad-happy way while selecting each picture, each frame from the past, examining it lovingly before it vanished again in the mist. But nobody ever forgot anything, not really, though sometimes they pretended, when it suited them. Memories were permanent. Sorrowful ones remained sad even with the passing of time, yet happy ones could never be re-created—not with the same joy. Remembering bred its own peculiar sorrow. It seemed so unfair: that time should render both sadness and happiness into a source of pain.

> From A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry