How many memories do you think you have? How far back can you remember?
I like many other try to capture moments in time with things. These things are stored in a shoebox under my bed and are taken out occasionally why I decide to reminisce on times gone by. These times are becoming more frequent, as we speak I am surrounded by these slices of my life.
Tickets from musical shows, letters from old friends, cards from birthdays and photographs captioned in thin black pen on the back. The photographs seem to be the dearest; their memories are clear to anyone who sees them but the backstories are often deeper than the snapshot can show.
A college graduation cap and gown reside in another box along with costumes from school plays and an engagement ring that no longer fits my finger. All materialistic possessions that are so much more than that.
In these boxes there are many things that remind me of you. Many notebooks with your name scrawled on in fading black pen. Many Polaroids of us arm in arm or at opposite edges of the frame.
Most of theese memories are now irrelevant fading slowly with time,dust and ancient tears. In reminiscing I cling on to fragments of what has been forgetting for the moment the present. I fear losing them but somedays the memories seem like someone else's. They belong to a person I was once, many years ago. She was carefree and fiery with a spring in each of her steps. I've lost the spring I possessed and replaced it with harsh truths and reality. I wish all too often the perky girl would return with the toothy open smile captured in these photographs.
From Someone
YOU ARE READING
Dear Stranger
Ficción GeneralDear Stranger, Have you ever felt as though you were going to die? Have you ever felt like you were walking on the edge? Like in a split second you could fall into the void? I can tell you now that being close to the end isn't like that at all. I sh...
