Memory is a strange thing! It so bizarre sometimes the things it chooses to keep while discarding others. I find it amazing that I can remember all 12 digits of your phone number but I can’t seem to memorize the 8 of my own! Significance is at the heart of memory. I guess we don’t forget what we love. I wonder if memories feed our hearts or if it is the other way around? What do you think?
Memories are also such a contradiction of things. Some are very fragile while some are so strong. Some fill us with joy, and we wish to savor them like the warm hug of a friend on a cold night. Others much darker, we wish we could forget yet they wrap their arms around us like chains! Some build us and some destroy us yet at the end of our life what we have left is our memories! Such an integral part of us that I don’t think even death can part us from them. I am my memories or my memories are me? A philosophical question I don’t know the answer to.
Sometimes I think we have so many I wonder where they all fit, crowded in my mind like a stack of domino chips. Sometimes my mind is so empty I don’t know where they’ve gone; like an imprint you see on the couch, knowing something was there but now it’s gone! So many things can trigger them and at the most ludicrous times: a smell, a sound, a picture, a touch! And sometimes one leads to another like an endless stream of pearls on a necklace.
Sometimes I wonder what your memories are of me and what picture you hold in your mind. I wonder if it is happy or sad. I wonder what colors tinge your memories of me and if they warm your heart. I wonder if they will stand the test of time or they are a fleeting figment in your mind. Sometimes I wish I could know but other times I do not wish it at all. I guess I am too afraid to find out. And then I think does it really matter at all? As long as I know what memories of you my heart holds.