Sometimes We Forget

Of course, we forgot. Forgetting is so easy, except for those things we do not want to forget. Even now, after all these years, us older ones cannot forget those times, or what came after. Now, though, there is so much to remember, and – well – sometimes, we forget.

Susan must have forgotten, that’s all. Yesterday was a bright sunny day, one of those days where it is easy to forget.

We found her – what remained of her – in the woods to the east of the compound.

She’d gone out alone, alone and unarmed. So, even after all this time, knowing what we know and knowing all we’ve seen, it is still too easy to forget sometimes.

She’d been out as the dawn touched the sky, blood red – a shepherd’s warning as we used to say, back in well, back before the…  before what happened, happened. There was a basket with a handful of fresh mushrooms in it, near where what was left of Susan stained the blood-soaked undergrowth.

Susan had always liked fresh mushrooms, but in the past, she’d always remembered never to go out alone and never to go outside unarmed.

But over the recent months we’d grown careless, complacent and – yes – we’d forgot. Even I, the one who was supposed to be in charge of, to live and breathe, our security sometimes I forgot too.

Sometimes, it is easy to think that we are like some newcomers to this land, that we are pioneers and that somewhere back there a civilisation exists as something more than an increasingly distant memory.

But we are alone, and we must not forget that. We must also remember that they are out there… somewhere, too.

We cannot escape them, or allow ourselves to forget them, forget that we are an island in the midst of a sea of predators, all waiting for us to make one mistake, waiting for us to forget.

I took Sam away from there, before he could see what was left of his wife. Although, he knew what he would see if he did go into that clearing. We’ve all seen it hundreds of times, but still familiarity with the sight is no preparation for when it is one of your own, one of those you love. I know that too. I know of all the things I wished I could forget, that one is the uppermost.

Still, in the end, all we can do is keep on keeping on while all the time trying to forget what we can’t forget and to remember all that we wish we could forget.

 

Published by David Hadley

A Bloke. Occasionally points at ducks.

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