What You Remember and What You Forget

-

What will you remember about your life when all is said and done? Will it be the people who accompanied you on your journey? Will it be the places you explored and traveled to along the way? Will it be a cat or a dog that showed you the meaning of true friendship? Will it be the last word spoken to you by someone you will never get to speak to again?
What would you choose to remember if your memory could be wiped clean of just one thing that happened to you in your entire life?



Would it be the fist time your parents told you they loved you?

 Would it be the first time you realized you loved yourself?

 Would it be the first time you held your child?

 Would it be the first lips that brushed against yours?

 Who would you choose to remember?

 What would you say to them, if you could have them there right in front of you for just a few moments?
Isn't it amazing how much detail we are capable of remembering when we shut out all the noise, close our eyes, and feel our way around the fragments of our past?
And isn't it ridiculous that we take so long to lock up the stuff that worries us sick to our stomach, and throw away the key?

 In the end what you remember and what you forget, is what gets you from here to there.

It's the voice of a loved one, long gone, whispering in your ear,

 "Let it go."

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

LISA AUDREY COHEN - WRITING YOUR LIFE STORY

-
Image
    We all have events in our lives that imprint upon our memories. Some are happy, some are sad. We all have regrets of what was and what could have been. We all experience and surrender to love whether it is a lifetime commitment or a night of passion. Our memories are sparked by the scent of cooking, a song, a place we return to where we spent our childhood. While some of us walk a straight line (the job, the career, the partner, the kids, the house), others take detours. They travel the world, have various partners and live one day to the next.  The paths we take bring us to people and places where we settle, build a foundation and a LIFE THAT BECOMES OUR STORY. For over 20 years, I have been ghostwriting for those who want to share their life story. Whether in their twilight years or their prime, they all possess A SLICE OF BRILLIANCE.  Their life experiences are fascinating and through an intense interviewing process that takes sometimes a year or more, I am able to SCULPT AND SH
Read more

GROWING UP IN WENTWORTH PARK AND AT BLOSSOM POOL

-
Image
  I remember the sound of the ball coming in contact with the bat. The wood bats had a hallow kind of smack, while the aluminum had a ping. I remember the lamplights turning on, slowly, hesitantly flickering before reaching their full strength, the moths dancing in the warm spotlight. I grew up in a small white house, along with my two brothers, on a one-way street called Wentworth. The park was our backyard. It’s where we learned how to play basketball, baseball, hockey and how to look out for one another. Our parents worked several jobs to make ends meet. We lived a simple yet fulfilled life. We were kids with 3 baseball diamonds, two basketball courts, a shack to play “wall ball” against, a jogging path behind Diamond 2, a playground beyond that, and our very first school, Wentworth School across the street, beside yet another landmark, Blossom Pool. We had a neighbour who talked to the bus drivers, whose rest stop was in front of our house. His name was John “Babe” Learie. He also
Read more

FRIENDS

-
Image
 I’m 16, hopping fences, one backyard to the next. It’s Fall and the air is hinting that winter is on its way. It’s one of those nights when you can smell everyone’s dinner cooking. It’s dark out, earlier than the previous month and the kitchen lights are on. I can see entire families seated at the table, eating, talking, enjoying the end of another day together. I see single people alone, watching TV, eating slowly, stepping outside of themselves, wondering, when this became their nightly routine and how they ending up alone. I reach my house and enter the back door that we keep open because I am always losing or forgetting my keys. There are meals prepared for the week by my mother. My parents are both working, and my brothers are nowhere in sight. I warm up some chicken and rice and I am just about to chow down when the phone starts ringing, back in the day when everyone had a “land line” and if you were talking and someone else was trying to reach you, well they got a “busy” signal
Read more