Memories are absurd things. Some are vague, some crystalline, some too painful to recollect and some so painful it's impossible to forget. Happy times are remembered with warmth and laughter, recalled as an anecdote in the pub, exaggerated for the crowd. The really good ones keep you company on an otherwise lonely evening.
The clearest memories are of those occasions when you experience great highs or lows. It's the emotion the situation inspires that you remember. That feeling of incredible exultation or terrible despair enables your brain to note the details that normally pass you by, like the color of someone's shirt, a hand gesture or how warm or cold it was. You can recall the creases cause by a smile on a loved ones lips or the way tears crept from their eyes.
But pain is hard to put into words and in life there is always pain. It's as natural as birth or death. Pain makes us who we are, it teaches us and tames us, it can destroy and it can save. We all have regrets - even Frank Sinatra had a few.
Some tragedies are of our own doing and then sometimes things happen that are out of this world's control and when it happens, it takes our breath away.
Happiness is a gift. It washes its warmth over us and reminds us of beauty. It should never be taken for granted. That thin blue line represented happiness. I didn't know that it would later represent something that I would never get back. But then I wasn't ready.
No comments:
Post a Comment