While on the road with Little A, I often wonder how she is going to remember this trip. Perhaps she'll have memories like those depicted by Terrence Mallick in his movie Tree of Life -- warm, summery flashes of sky and grass and familiar streets and yards and voices. I hope that she has memories like that - only with less Brad Pitt and fewer voice overs. On case she does remember moments from this trip (and in case she one day makes a Mallick-style films about such memories, I always make sure that the left side of my hair is well styled and my back left shoulder is neat and stain-free. She's spending a fair amount of time staring at that part of me from the backseat of the car.
But maybe she'll have no memory of this trip. I'll have to implant memories. It will be like Inception but with less Leo Dicaprio and fewer plot twists. I'll take and show her tons and tons of pictures and talk about the trip constantly. "You remember when we drove out east, just the two of us, don't you? Remember the horses and the cows and the dinner we ate in Madison at Himal Chuli?" Until she doesn't know what she remembers for real and what she remembers because I told her to. And then she'll make a movie like Tree of Life ... or Inception.
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