By Ryan Lowell

My son and I were sitting at one of the chess tables underneath the Casco Bay Bridge. We were playing the memory matching game. My memory had been coming up quite a lot lately, but that wasn’t why we were playing the game. We were playing because my son liked to beat me at it. We toss a match at each other when we light up a memory we both can share. I started out in the lead, which was pure luck, but soon his pile of matches was twice the size of mine.

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