A bicycle’s worn grips hold evidence of journeys its owner may not remember separately.

Repetition leaves a physical record that memory does not keep. Thousands of ordinary trips, none worth recalling on its own, wear a shape into the rubber that no single ride could explain. Objects accumulate the days you have forgotten. The evidence is real even though the experience has blurred, which is a kinder account of a life than most people give themselves.

Look at something you use daily and read the wear on it as a record of time spent. In weeks when nothing seems to have happened, that mark is a fair reminder that the days were used.