Where Memories Go
Because the past never really stays put
a novella in progress developed in our Cinema Therapy program
Ema isn’t just sorting through old photos—she’s stepping into them. At sixty-one, living with Parkinson’s, a forgotten box of memories pulls her into a journey through childhood, adolescence, and adulthood, uncovering the moments that shaped her life: the joys, the heartbreaks, and everything in between.
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But memories have a mind of their own. They bend, shift, and sometimes surprise. When a mischievous guide named Q shows up, Ema’s quiet reflection becomes a playful, time-bending adventure. From Star Trek conventions to family milestones, she discovers that engaging truthfully in the past—and the memories Parkinson’s no longer lets her filter—can be painful, illuminating, and at times, surprisingly funny.
As Parkinson’s erodes her confidence and clarity, she risks losing not only her sharpness but her very sense of self. To heal, she must decide whether to see her memories as a burden—or as the key to holding on to who she is.
Where Memories Go is a story of memory, resilience, and the unexpected ways life teaches us to forgive, heal, and even laugh at ourselves. It’s a heartfelt, imaginative journey through the memories that define us—and the ones that never quite stay put.
Author: Amy Young
Where Memories Go grew out of my work with Cinema Therapy, a program that helps people with Parkinson’s use film and storytelling to explore the hardest parts of the disease. That experience inspired me to start a blog, where I share both story journeys and smaller reflections on life with Parkinson’s. To my surprise, the blog has found a supportive audience—it’s become my way of connecting, encouraging, and reminding others: you’re not alone.
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At one time, Parkinson’s apathy had me in its grip. I had almost disappeared from my own life. In my writing, I faced apathy head-on, gave her a name and shape, fought with her, and eventually reclaimed control. Storytelling gave me the strength to push back. I want others with Parkinson’s to know they can do the same.
Star Trek found its way into this novella because I’ve always been a fan, it makes me smile. I also believe imagination belongs alongside struggle. Fiction gave me space to step into memories that Parkinson’s won’t let me filter, to meet them with humor as well as honesty, and to transform them into resilience.
For me, actively revisiting the past isn’t just remembering—it’s healing.
