The scary thing about memories is that they change. Sometimes this can be a good thing, such as when people have experienced a horrific event but years later they don't remember it as being so traumatic. Sometimes memory changes in bad ways, such as when a person gets dementia.
Sometimes memories just change, and it's not necessarily good or bad. Just weird. And annoying.
I was already thinking about this in relation to 9/11, but I got a reminder of this fact when I was reading my old diary and I came across my post about an earthquake I experienced on 2/28/2001. It's an earthquake I wrote about a couple weeks ago, and you may notice that what I wrote in that post slightly differs from what I wrote in my dairy.
The only changes I've made in writing my diary entry here is spelling/grammar/breaking up one giant paragraph and removing Tall One's real name.
We had an earthquake a little while ago.
I was putting the dishes up when I noticed the water in the sink was moving, and my first thought was "What is Tall One doing?" Then I heard and saw the refrigerator moving -- it as bumping side to side but staying put. Immediately after the fridge started bumping around I heard the chimes chiming, and I heard things start to shake around. At that point I thought "Ok, Tall One couldn't make the whole house shake." Then Mom and Dad came and told Tall One and me to get in the doorway. About this time I finally figured out that it was an earthquake.
There hasn't been an aftershock yet.
It was a 6.something earthquake. The center of it was 200 miles north of here and it was felt 100 miles south of here. I think Solana [a pet rat] slept through it. Salita [my other rat] was probably awake. She is on my bed hiding right now. The earthquake also bugged the cats.