Memories are strange things (s)

Memories are odd things at times.  Most people tend to mix events and dates together to form memories that aren’t quite true to the past.  Other times, we remember something through a “slippery slope” in which what we end up remembering had nothing to do with what we are experiencing.  Sights, sounds, tastes, things we touch or touch us, and smells all bring up the past.  The strongest tie-in to memories are smells, though I don’t understand the science behind it.

Just tonight during a really late shower, conditions must have been just right to bring up a strong memory.  As I stepped in and let the hot water pound on my sore neck, I was suddenly somewhere else when I closed my eyes.  Even after I opened them and I could clearly see I was still in my own place, the memory continued as clearly as though I was currently there.

I was in my ex’s shower in New Jersey, looking over the lake at the house across the way.  I could feel the moister, see every detail of the shower, hear her dogs, and I could even smell the scent of her house and the outside as the breeze drifted in through the open window.

For many moments I felt a longing and a sadness that I wasn’t actually there, nor would I ever be again.  How many times I tried to snap myself out of it, I lost count.  From that memory, I drifted into others.  I felt the coolness of the bedroom, the softness of the sheets, the sight of squirrels running around the front yard, and even the sound of her shouting up what I wanted to do for lunch.

Had I been living in New Jersey or she in Colorado, I know things would have most certainly turned out differently, but such is things.  I’m not saying I miss her nor that I’m sad that things are over, necessarily, because, believe me, there are things that really piss me off…things I’m glad I don’t have to deal with anymore.

No, I’m just saying that a crack formed after I stoned up my heart again, springing a leak and forcing me to face it again.  Now that it’s done with, I’m happier than I was, even if it does mean a small part of me does now wish things had been a little different.

Yeah…memories often suck because we’re forced to deal with things we’d rather not.  I can’t count how many times I’ve stayed awake, looking at the ceiling because I suddenly smell something that reminds me of the military barracks…bleh!
Posted 4/22/2007 at 3:30 AM on Xanga


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