When I was pregnant, I would think about and want sushi and poké, though not in the give-it-to-me-now way in which I've heard pregnant women describe cravings for things like pickles and ice cream, but in the way of wanting a food I love yet couldn’t currently have. As I drove to work one morning, thinking about food, I recalled a memory from when Andy took me to Hawaii and proposed. It was the last day of the trip and we were filling time before going to the airport. We wandered through a shopping plaza brimming with booths selling anything from trinkets to clothes to food. We began to search for something to eat, when we found it: tucked into a corner at the back of the plaza was a tiny sushi spot. The whole place was merely two counters with stools plus the kitchen. I think it could seat five customers at a time, tops. Immediately, Andy sensed that this was someplace special. We waited a bit until a couple finished and left, then sat down elbow to elbow at the counter.

As a young child, I was convinced there had been a time when I could fly.

One day, I simply remembered; I used to be able to fly. The memory came to me all at once, clicked on as though my brain had tuned into a station which had previously been static. It felt like a dream, yet there was a clarity to it I couldn’t deny. In my mind’s eye I could see the world floating beneath me. I couldn’t go very high or fast, and not outside of the house, details which made me believe firmly in the memory.