M is not for Memories

Memories, especially the good ones, are wistful yet difficult to revisit. When they’re still conversations and actions, moments and gestures, before they’re echoes of what was, you don’t know which pieces will stay with you. You will find that you have pieces tucked away in your back pocket, forever available to be reread like an old holiday letter, and you will have pieces that you will lose only to find years later. But you won’t know the pieces that are inextricably linked with the past, unable to be resurfaced…. As those relationships dissolve and chapters close so does their substance and sharpness fade. This is often a relief with the unpleasant ones, but with the cherished ones- 

It’s a beautiful rarity to find safe people, the empathetic ones that nurture, give goodness like a gift, honor others’ vulnerabilities, and help restore hope. These people are the hardest to lose.

You see, when I lose a memory, a good one, I fear I will also lose those they are attached to. When life is bad, I often disconnect and realize retroactively that there are people worthy of presence and participation. They are like a discovered mentor or guide, brother or friend. So I relive and write down life’s crucial conversations and experiences to collect like souvenirs, forever tucked away in a back pocket.

But to revisit a shadow or write down words alone isn’t sufficient: it’s their expressions, ardor, why they say what they do and why they don’t say what they don’t that I can’t capture adequately. These are the pieces lost and unable to resurface. I like cassette tapes I think. They capture what words alone cannot-those minute, gentle details. But I can’t know to spontaneously record when they happen; I don’t even know their value until they’re erased, part of the past-

So hold on to those who stay, those who’re still present, active. Try, because the worst part about memories, the good ones, is that they sneak up on you.

---