I’ve been thinking a lot about memories lately. Not only how they’re formed, but what triggers them. How much time needs to pass before a moment in time becomes a memory? I suppose the literal answer is a moment. But I disagree. Some things need time. Snuggled up within the past, or perhaps hidden, hoping to never be found or yearning to be found, they wait until the right moment to come alive again.
Most of you know my sister passed away. I’ve been thinking about our lives together, and our lives apart. I’ll probably still be doing this months later. Digging up all the good and bad. Letting the tears come. Allowing the anger to breathe. Releasing the regrets, one day at a time.
This week, when I dug around in the past areas I chose to visit, I found a song.
She played this song. Over and over. It was the first song I ever came to know by title and band. I wish it could say it was a perfect analogy for our lives.
But it is one of the few things in the world that reminds me only of my sister, and nothing or no one else. I think these things take on a life of their own, don’t they? A special song, or perhaps a movie that someone close to you always watched. A habit. They get absorbed into the people we know so that the one can’t be separated from the other. I’m glad I found this one that belonged to her.