The ebullience of memories

The+ebullience+of+memories

I will never go to parties or pretend to enjoy every waking moment of life itself. Like fireflies, I will capture the best of memories in a clear glass mason jar. I will never forget the memories of a cool passing car on the highway or a tree covered in winter’s dear crystals. 

I cannot forget the feeling of falling in love for the first time; a splash of nervousness covering my being, while excitement bites at my teeth. Holding my hoodie closer to my figure as we run through a parking lot, or slow dance in an art gallery full of art, though my focus is only on your vibrant smile. 

I remember sitting on the beach with my mother, her beautiful strands of brown locks blowing in the whisper of a sunset wind. Eating melted candy on the damp sand of Holland’s uncontrollable weather. Cradled in a pink blanket; her warm embrace of rose and lilac surrounding me. The fondness of that simple memory still warms me to my bones. 

Breaking into an amusement park with my three best friends, Seven-Eleven slushies in each of our hands. We ran and laughed until our lungs burned embers and our voices were no more. I still remember the feeling of the wind whisking through my hair as I cautiously climbed on the Ferris wheel. 

Almost nothing is as painful as a disappointing memory, it often leads me down a dark spiral of wondering what I could have done better. ”

Never will I forget the epiphany of life itself under the fourth of July night; the feeling of knowing what I’m worth and what I’m meant to do. Explosions of natural phenomenons flashing before my eyes were simply in serendipity of my lasting euphoric feeling.  

Within every memory is a different part of myself. Like a stained glass window, I am full of vibrancy. Every color a different mood. Sometimes I am brave, questioning the devil himself as I climb a Ferris wheel, while other times I am cautious and gentle, afraid to mess up a perfect potential memory.  

I base my life around memories, making plans in hope that the memories play through my head like an old fashioned movie projector during a night of solitude. 

However, life is unexpected, which often leads to disappointment when a memory doesn’t go the way I had wished it had. Almost nothing is as painful as a disappointing memory; it often leads me down a dark spiral of wondering what I could have done better. 

But nothing feels as wonderful as a perfect memory in my internal photo book. Memories are what keep my head above water; they are my life support.