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Mining the past

I must be about 14, because Varda looks about 5.
Every time a picture I don't remember turns up, I think about how much and how little I remember. For instance, I remember a black-&-white houndstooth corduroy jumper that I made in Home Ec. I used to roll it up after I left the house—we were obsessed with skirt lengths. I remember a pair of black pumps that cost $17 & how mad my Dad was that I spent so much. They were the shape of all my favorite shoes my whole life, to this day—rounded or squared-off toe, simple. I remember a chunky mustard-yellow sweater.

But I have no memory of this terrific dress! And no memory of looking exactly like this, or my expression or the event or the atmosphere. Is that still me? Am I still her?
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