Joan Didion in her novel “A Year of Magical Thinking” wrote that having a notebook on hand made the difference between writing and not writing. The difference between keeping an idea and losing an idea.

I have spent two days away from my apartment and I feel as if I’ve been gone a year.

At three in the morning I found myself in Crown Heights Brooklyn lying on my best friend’s boyfriend’s couch. As I fell asleep I became overwhelmed with the thought that I am losing ideas. The thought grew into an irrational fear as I recited three lines in my head, as I wrote them in my imagination, as I wrote them on the walls:

Remember heavy metal chairs, small French menus, a rooftop.
Remember the smell of cloves, garlic, mussels, cologne.
Remember your friends.

I woke up tangled in sheets, my body wedged into the crease of the couch, reciting my three sentences. But the last line was all I really cared about.
These people, my dear friends, are stronger than ideas: they will not let themselves be lost. Words or empty pages, there are some things that will never disappear. Aiyanna, remember that.