Victor Hugo once wrote "Intelligence is the wife, imagination is the mistress, memory is the servant." For me though, I often feel like the servant to my memory. That the regrets of a missed opportunity or a cherished bygone era in your life force you to reconcile that time moves forward with or without you. It's also hard not to feel submissive to something that you can't argue with. You can't pick and choose what you remember, as much as I'd like to bury a few embarrassing moments, they're always there- and in truth, as much as we'd occasionally like to bury some of the happy moments that we relate to someone who left us or moved on, someone who perhaps doesn't put the same value on a shared past- our memories can feel like anchors, keeping our hearts in an emotional rut, like a skipping cd, replaying the same words over and over while everyone else seems to have changed songs. In the end though, Victor Hugo is right- it is up to us to wield our past and what we recall from it- to use the memories, both good and bad as fuel for who and where we want to be.