Memory

I am a very gentle man. Everywhere I go, they call me 'Bob' as it is my name. Neither my mother or my father have known that they call me that for they call me Robert. A the old name of Robert.

Yesterday I was at my house sipping a cup of tea prepared my Mister Shekel. It was a chamomile tea. Natural. It helps me control my senses especially at night when I have a hard time sleeping.

The year is 2002 and it has been what? eighteen years since the last time I went back to this old house.

The butler stayed the same. Loyal as ever. As memory serves, he served also my father and mother and me when I was still a child. He was young then. Today, he is as old as an oak tree.

What kind of loyalty had done this old man to serve me until his days were numbered? I guess it is intuition and loyalty to one family.

I cannot fathom the days that he is without me. Those days I wasnt here. I maybe wasted his efforts.

My memory serves as a bank of knowledge. The art, the science of it all. WE are now in the modern world. I am the only one left of my lineage and I intend to expand it. But how?

You see. That is some history right there. I know what you think. Wasnt it neat that in my years, for I am 33 years old, I still havent had any wife or kids. Should I find one? Should I wait.

I did wait. At what cost?

My memory.