I have so many good memories-swimming in the Atlantic as a young girl sleeping under the stars by the Chama River in New Mexico eating cherry pie with my 90-year-old mother at Hamburger Heaven in Palm Beach, Florida the gray-brown deer, considered sacred, that ripped the map out of my friend's hand in Kyoto eating green tea ice cream out of a Dixie cup in front of the gates to Eiheiji monastery, deep in the mountains outside Fukui-yet it's none of these that I recall this early January morning.
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