Memories Live With You
Memories have faces
Memories stay around for centuries if they’re in a picture. Others live with you, wearing clothes and with familiar faces.
Memories are beautiful, but weird. They fleetingly pass over our minds, guiding us back to the world we once shared with our loved ones.
There are memories that live with me since ever.
The Friend
I had a friend named Ria (changed), who always wore a hat with a pompom on top and had dark curly hair.
One day, she vanished, and I only had her memories. No one even noticed that she was gone. No one cared. Her parents were gone, too.
The voiceless memories of the Ria I once knew float around me.
They don’t speak, but I know what she was saying. Her memories float around, doing whatever they desire. They look at me sometimes. They are alive. They move around, interacting with other memories.
I miss Ria so much.
Grandpa’s face
Grandpa was sitting on his couch, watching a black-and-white film from the 1950s. He saw me walk in but didn’t move a muscle except to smile faintly.
Grandpa had never been very good at accepting his ageing and illness. How dare a little sickness try to manipulate and destroy him? That was impossible.
But that was happening.
I sat next to Grandpa, pretending to be watching the movie.
I wanted to seize the remote from his hand and watch some daily soap opera. But maybe there was something that I wanted more badly than changing the channel.
I wanted to talk to Grandpa.
Even if it was only for a minute or two, I wanted us to turn off the TV and look at each other’s faces. Grandpa had always been a gruff man with nothing nice to say, but who would have guessed the reason was a simple embarrassment.
He was born in an era that scorned the expression of emotions, calling it unmanly. Despite such censorship, signs of love sometimes slipped out of him.
I wanted to say something, anything. but I couldn’t move my jaws.
I suddenly registered how gaunt Grandpa’s face was. I had noticed his body becoming thinner and his skin becoming sallower, but I assumed these were normal signs of aging.
How could I have been so acutely aware of myself yet so clueless about Grandpa’s condition?
He muted the TV and placed the remote on his lap. But he didn’t talk.
Grandpa stayed a few more months with us in flesh and blood. Then he turned into a memory with a gaunt face.
And sometimes a smiling face.
Memories are living beings. You’ve to give (a part of) yourself up to keep them alive. As my memories float, I notice something:
Ria’s face. Grandpa’s face. They’re looking at me, waving at me.
Thank you for reading!
Memory is an intrinsic part of our life experience. And without memories, we would have no sense of self.
Understanding why some memories stick better than others, as well as accepting their fluidity, helps us better appreciate just how much our memories impact our lives.
Thank you, Jason Edmunds, for the wonderful prompts.
Inspired by A Taste for Life’s weekend challenge 32, prompt 4 — Memories.
