Today, I began an art assignment. We have to draw a graph to make the proportion exact. As I was trying to navigate my math skills with a nail as a measuring tool and a piece of paper as a ruler, I backed into the freezer.

I used to walk down the freezer isles in IGA, gliding my hand along the freezer-rail, feeling the temperature change from cold to hot.

Later on I peeled potatoes to go alongside the steaks that had been marinating since Monday. The potato skins were a bit green.

When I lived at the farm, my sister Leanne made the mashed potatoes for the meal. The potatoes were too green, but she must not have noticed. As a joke, my dad scooped some of the green potato onto her plate while she was in the washroom. She returned to the table, proud of her part taken in the meal, to see the green mush sitting on her plate. We laughed. She cried.

I have a theory that breaking up with someone is harder than being broken up with. When you break up with someone (unless it's a more or less meaningless relationship) you have to go through all the pre-breakup worry. Tears are shed prematurely knowing what will occur. The person who gets broken up with has no choice but to accept the fact that the other just doesn't want to be together anymore. When I broke up with my boyfriend years ago, and he fed me the whole I-hate-you-and-will-never-talk-to-you-again thing (and then he didn't), I had dreams about him close to two years after the year-long relationship. Dreams of bumping into him, him yelling at me, him pretending nothing happened, him wanting to get back together. Now, I can barely remember details I used to cherish. The mind has a way of omitting segments that no longer apply.

I don't remember how to feel remorse over the breakup.

I don't remember how old I was when I'd stare at the ice-cream flavours wondering why the freezer felt hot when it kept the contents cold.

I had forgotten how sensitive my sister had been, and how sensitive I would have been if it happened to me.

Bumping into freezers and peeling potatoes do not matter.

I enjoy remembering what isn't important.