I remember trying to slide down the banister at my house when I was little. It worked the first time, but the second time my leg got stuck, and my dad had to help me out.

I remember skinning my knee when I fell off my bike, but not crying about because it didn't hurt badly and I wanted to seem strong.

I remember putting on a play with my friends for our parents to see.

I remember dancing in front of my grandparents' fireplace.

I remember falling off the porch in my backyard.

I remember being incredibly nervous before dance recitals.

It's funny what you remember.

It's funny what you remember because more than likely, the things you remember are the things you will not only tell stories about, but they are the things that will help you in shaping your perspectives on other stories.

You'll say, "Woah, that happened to me too!" or "Wait, that's so funny. I did a similar thing."

The things you remember are the things that will help you connect.

These can be the funny memories, the sad ones, or the memories you don't want to remember but can't seem to forget.

They can be the painful memories, or the memories you forget sometimes, but remember when you see or hear something—even if it's completely unrelated.

The memory of you falling off of your bike, and the one of you getting back on.

The memories of tears, and the memories that —happy or sad—make you cry.

There are too, too many, and yet far too few—for we will never be able to remember every aspect of our lives.

We won't be able to recall all of the information we require during an exam, even though we may have heard it during a lecture or skimmed over it in a textbook.

We won't be able to remember our early childhoods to see who and what had the most impact—perhaps this is a good thing. We won't remember the first words we said or the first step we took.

We likely won't remember the times in between the big moments—the moments where we were just passing time, sitting in our rooms, playing on our phones, watching a TV show, or napping. And that's okay.

Sometimes it'll be the little moments we can't remember—the moments we lose—perhaps, something as simple as I have no idea where I put my keys. Or, I can't remember what time they said to get there. Or, I can't remember what my mom wanted me to buy at the store.

Other times, though, it'll be the big things—the moments in our minds that are fragmented. Perhaps these are the moments we knowingly tune out and forget, or the moments we try so hard to remember —when and where, we wonder, did this all go wrong? When did this happen? How did this happen? It could be something difficult, a tragedy that occurs—something you just can't fathom and so the memory adjusts itself.

It's funny what we remember, but it's more funny how and when we remember.

It's funny what causes us to remember things we thought we had forgotten.

But I believe that memories are, in fact, pretty special. They're glimpses of another time— a portal through which to venture, if only for a second. We can, very literally, see events that are long gone. And I think that can be good sometimes—not always, of course.

I think it can be good to reminisce, or simply to recall, when the opportunity presents itself.

My grandparents recall things from their childhoods over 60 years ago, and I'm amazed at how vividly they remember—at how we can connect our lives that are so very different and so far apart.

We all have memories—some strong, some weak. But I think it's important to appreciate them, because however small or insignificant they might be, they helped constitute a part of our lives.

And seeing as we don't remember every single thing, it is interesting to note what we do remember. Strange, how certain things just stand out.