Memory catcher

How do you share a memory?
Oh, there are the simple answers that most of us use.
Pictures, stories, conversation.
But those don't always show what is really happening.
A picture is a single moment, frozen in time. Anything that happened outside the frame is eventually lost to time.
When written down, stories remain consistent. But they only tell you what the writer remembered, and what they felt. A story doesn't always tell you everything about the event, and the memory itself is tainted by the view of person writing it down.
Passing along a memory by word of mouth can be simple, but often the memory will become distorted by each subsequent telling.
So how is a memory to survive, yet remain complete?
Some would suggest using multiple methods in order to view the memory from different angles.
Others maintain that so long as a single portion of the memory survives, that is enough.
But for a memory catcher, mastering the ability to maintain a perfect memory is the first lesson one learns.
"You must remain focused." The instructor said as he strolled down the sidewalk. He pointed to a shrub, a flock of birds, then a line of ants on the ground. "No matter how insignificant it may appear, each detail must be formed precisely."
Ignoring the growing ache in my head, I turned a portion of my attention to the mistakes. The shrub became more rounded, each bird of the flock gained subtle differences, and the ants altered directions.
"That is better." The instructor gave a nod. He looked around for a moment longer, then disappeared.
Breathing in, I slowly allowed the memory to fade.
Blinking, I found myself back in the classroom. My instructor was seated across from me, and was already writing his report.
Glancing around the room, I saw some of the other memory catchers in training were coming out of their memory exercise. There were thirteen of us left from the original group of twenty.
By the end of the month, there would only be three.
Part of me longed to be one of the three. For they were the ones who would have the honor of remembering the town's history.
But there was another part of me that dreaded the thought of being given such responsibility. To dedicate my life to remembering, and to addressing any questions regarding our collected past.
"Come on, Lucille." Pulling myself away from my thoughts, I realized that my instructor had left. In his place was Bradson, who had become a good friend in the month since our group was gathered.
Standing, I followed him out of the classroom. As we headed to the cafeteria, I looked at him.
"So how did you do?"
"I had the crowded hall memory. My head hurts just thinking of all those faces." With a lopsided smile, he rubbed a his head. "What about you?"
I shrugged. "I had the morning stroll down a sidewalk. It took a while to recall the finer details correctly."
Bradson chuckled. "At least today wasn't the compiling exercise."
I shook my head. I still had some trouble taking memories from multiple people and constructing them into a single memory.
"If you don't become one of the three, what will you do?" I asked.
"I'll figure that out if it happens." Bradson answered, his smile growing a little wider. "But no matter what happens, at least I'll have some interesting memories to share."
I laughed. No matter where we ended up, memories were all that we would ever work with.
For such was the fate of a memory catcher.