I have a poem posted under my poetry tab called Miscellaneous Me, which is filled with memories. I am made up of all my experiences... all my memories. I am the wonder I felt when looking at the sun through a newly bloomed tree, the softness of that cool breeze I felt when the sun was just a tad too warm, the hurt I felt after a betrayal, the excitement inspired by holding onto a new ticket to a Yanni concert. I am all those things and more. I know there are some that would argue with me. But me... I AM made of all those moments. The positive and negative are all a part of me.
Memories are such an interesting thing. They're not wholly the truth, which makes them a lie. And yet, they're our truths. They're what binds us to a situation or person, for better or worse. We hold on to those moments, filling in the details so thoroughly a memory is created. They fill in the cracks of who we are and define our responses. They can prevent us from moving on when it's time, or keep us from letting go when it's not. When the words are few, the bond of those shared moments still remain. They bring us joy in times of darkness. They offer hope and speak to possibility. They can also remind us when we're not meant to go back. And provide a fond smile when the thought dances to the forefront of our brain and the healing is complete.
"I will be walking one day. Down a street far away. And see your face in a crowd. And smile. Knowing how you made me laugh. Hearing sweet echos of you from the past. I will remember you." -Amy Grant, I Will Remember You.