Memory is a fickle thing. Today is Sunday, February 22, 2015. What’s special about today? Nothing, really. It’s exactly three days after my younger brother’s birthday and four days before mine. I’m preparing to visit one of my best friends in Tampa this week and trying to finish up some freelance work. I’m enjoying the fact that it’s sunny and melting away the four inches of snow we received yesterday.

But when I opened my laptop and saw the date displayed within my inbox, I remembered something else: ZAM171.

When I was a kid, I tried to be as prepared for adult life as I could be and paid strict attention to the numerous life lessons my dad taught me — one of which was this: if you’re ever involved in a hit-and-run, remember the license plate number.

But if involved in a traumatic event, how would I remember to look at the license plate, much less recall it? Like any prepared little girl, I decided to test myself.  Continue reading →