Blank Spots in My Memories

I was having dinner with my two younger sisters when my older sister shared an interesting memory from my childhood. I leaned in, intrigued, and accidentally spilled my water.

“I don’t remember that at all,” I said.

She paused, leaned back in, and replied:

“Hermano, your mind must really be protecting you.
How can you not remember any of these things?
You took a lot of punishments and beatings, and you don’t remember?”

I don’t.

I remember certain major incidents, but there is so much I don’t recall, and it bothers me. I suppose my mind decided at an early age to tuck away these memories in a dark corner.

Apparently, I once kicked a cousin out of our home for disrespecting my sisters, causing a fallout between our families.

But I have no memory of it.

The brain is a fascinating organ, one I spend many hours studying.

It’s protecting me; that’s my best unscientific explanation.

Or maybe it’s just archiving old memories to make room for all the new memories coming in.

Either/or.

By Teevee Aguirre