Memory of a Moment

It is an odd feeling, to be the one who remembers the most.

I remember people I only spent a day with; they cling to my brain with a tight grip, refusing to let go. It’s a mortifying thing to remember all, yet also a gift when you use it correctly. Memory serves us in a way, that we choose the moments we wish to dwell on. I always find myself riddled with remembering people. I’ll never forget people I spent a few measly hours with. I don’t forget the tone someone used to talk to another, and it will haunt me till morning. I dwell on a memory of a person, because I feel some people should be remembered. Maybe I don’t know them, and perhaps I will never see them again; but I’d rather have a great moment captured in time with an acquaintance, then have never had the moment at all. It is also quiet fascinating how one moment from one person will stick in your head; that moment had such an impact, it never leaves you. I always remember being at a family friends birthday party, and one boy came up -who had been very reserved most of the night- and just introduced himself. We didn’t talk later that night, nor did we talk after it; though I remember his confidence, and the subtle intrigue he had to know who I was. I remember a neighbor who I only saw for three days, before they stopped coming to my house; they taught me how to whistle on a leaf of grass. I remember they were reserved, but filled with knowledge of little things. Neither of these people might even remember me, but both memories serve me very well.
The boy who introduced himself taught me that it is worth that one moment in time, to just have no fear; even if the only words spoken between two people is their name.
The neighbor taught me that not all knowledge should be shared; some mysteries shouldn’t be solved till the person gives you the clues.
People are fascinating, and the only way to preserve them is through memory, however tiny. Don’t be afraid to be the only one that remembers, be afraid of being the one who forgets.

Each tiny moment in time is significant, if you let it be.


NPWM Twenty-Nine: Memory Vow

I remember how his hands looked; Rough and Scuffed.
They reminded me of the cold Sleet of Night,
Of the Brisk morning Breeze.

I remember looking out the window, at the Cold leaves of Dawn.
Seeing how still Everything was in the morn,
Nothing came to Life with No sunlight.

I remember trying to read a book; eyes Struggling to find Light.
These kinds of days Provided No warmth,
Not even when I turned the page & Crawled into another Nook.

I remember petting soft fur; a Delicate animal of sorts.
A canine vowed to Protect the Land,
But even he couldn’t bear, Bear the weather and Stand.

I remember being Young. I remember when I was Full of Doubts.
I’ve carried them with me All these Years,
But I’ve Never allowed my doubts to become Fears.

NaPoWriMo Eighteen: Penn-Child

I remember the cold wetness gliding beneath my feet,
A cool breeze crosses my crimson cheeks.
A Pennsylvania icicle drops from my porch,
In old times it would call for some candles to be lit, possibly a torch.

The crackle of frozen green grass,
Is no match for the white laid on the ground reflective like glass.
There’s a constant ambiance of howling trees,

No longer a hum of honeybees.

I long to see the vast fields of white,
To thank it for providing my childhood, with endless light.