Do I remember eating a pickle in my grandparent's backyard ( I almost typed grandfather's, but if you knew my recently decesed Grandmother you'd know why I quickly changed it), or is it a fabricated memory from the photo I have. I feel like I remember that day, but I'm not sure. I have many memories of that house. Or I did. Now it's just a few, it feels like. All sloshed together like the different ingredients at a smoothie shop. They were discrete, and unique, when I first saw them, but now, somehow they have lost their definition and are all muddled together in a sloppy mess.