MC's Whispers

Whispering Silences

Archive for the tag “memories”

Farm escapes

©Brenda Cox

The weekends at the farm used to be a drag as a child. She saw them as a chore; one she was forced to do, and often had to be bribed simply to get into the car and go there. Plus, the bumpy drive there was a nightmare for her stomach. But she nonchalantly endured it all.

What she would realise much later on, was how lucky she was to have these weekends in the first place. A countryside to escape to, and grandparents to spoil her.

It was only when she grew up that she would acknowledge their value.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

More than walls

© Brenda Cox

When we finally arrived, it was all there just like in that picture we had created in our minds after so many descriptions we had heard.

It was standing there, frozen in time, as if waiting for its owners to return.

Homes too have a soul. They encompass the feelings and memories their residents confide and build in them. The life we experience, the persons we shape ourselves to be, the laughter and tears we express, they all seep into the walls and are cautiously guarded like a well-kept secret.

It only takes a single breath to remember it all.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

Don’t forget to remember

©The Rebel Bear

They say remembering everything is actually a curse. Because it doesn’t let you move on. Because you’re stuck in your memories and find it difficult to create new ones. Fortunate are those who begin every day from scratch, like a clean slate – a tabula rasa – ready for a new start.  Because you have nothing to pull you back; nothing with which to constantly compare things.

But is it better? To not remember?

The truth is we are our memories. Every single one of them has made us who we are. And there is no escaping that. There is no forgetting that either. Because it’s hard to forget something that forged you.

We’re not supposed to forget. Simply to remember less often. To spend more minutes in the present than in the past. Conscious of the experiences that brought us to this very moment. And aware that perhaps our greatest sentiments have not yet been felt.

What rocked the boat

© Penny Gadd

What’s the best memory you have of the trip?

He pondered for a while, his eyes gazing away and suddenly sparkling. A smile timidly spread across his face.

The boat ride across the river”.

He paused, breathed in the emotion and continued: “I didn’t think it would be anything mind-blowing, but I decided to go along anyway, given it was a must-do sightseeing. The water was far from clean, so we were all extra careful about potentially falling in”. He laughed.

We saw an alligator crawl in a few metres away. But that wasn’t what changed me. It was she…

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

A winter memory

© Na’ama Yehuda

In the midst of summer, there came a winter memory.

It was tucked away neatly in a desk drawer. Perhaps to be saved as a memory for those nostalgic nights when you don’t feel like doing much and would rather recall the past for a while.

Perhaps it was there as a constant reminder that life brings happiness in the most unexpected of ways.

Either way, it caused a smile to form; a sweet flutter inside, and a deep breath.

They had come a long way since then.

There were still issues to solve; but they would get there. Eventually.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

The magic seashell

©MCD

They were healing. Those long walks on the beach. Particularly when there was no one else around. Those hours of the day when the water was calm. There was something soothing in that feeling of warm sand under your feet and among your toes.

Since she was a child, Addison also loved to collect seashells along the water. It was something she learnt to do with her dad and a memory she cherished dearly.

But as she grew up, she found increasingly fewer seashells on the beach.

This was a day though when this changed.

There were abundant seashells along the waterline. All pretty in their own way, regardless of size.

But there was one that captured her gaze from afar. It was shinier than the rest, with bright rigged lines. It was beautiful in all its glory.

The moment she picked it up, she felt a blur and an instant pull. She blinked and realized she was on another beach somewhere even more mesmerizing than before. Someone was calling her name and she felt her heart skip a beat. She felt happy without knowing why. He was coming toward her and she could feel herself smile widely.

It may be a dream, or reality with a delay; it may take a magic seashell or simply perseverance; but whatever it is, life finds a way of compensating us for every hardship.

Trailing safe

© Ted Strutz

I never knew what it was like to live your entire life in the same place, let alone the same neighbourhood or even country”. His eyes welled up whenever he would recount the story.

His audience gasped with excitement. For them, it was thrilling to have lived in so many places around the world, to have the opportunity to gain so much experience, to be somewhere different every so often.

But to Ted, that very lack of stability was the problem.

He had grown up knowing he could just pick up his house and leave – literally – whenever there was trouble.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

Inn of Hearts

People choose to stay at an inn to escape reality.  So it should be a place where they feel welcome and comfortable. But it should also transfer them to somewhere else. A place that only exists in their dreams. Until they come here”.

It was how her grandmother described the inn she managed, ever since Hazel could remember.

Hazel, named so because of her distinctive brown-coloured eyes, spent most of her summers at her grandma’s inn in the New Zealand countryside.

It was a place that combined nature, green valleys, mountains and beautiful beaches. The summers there were memorable. She would always find something adventurous and exciting to do, be it from simple gardening to trekking, gliding and rock-diving, so that by the time she entered adulthood she was already saturated with experiences.

But then, her career-driven self got carried away by city life and the business routine that meant having a leave but never actually taking it, and working incessantly.

It was only after her grandma passed away and she inherited the inn she loved, that she returned to it after years of neglect.

From the minute she stepped back on the porch, Hazel could feel her grandmother’s presence and all her childhood memories rushing back. She could feel it all in the air around her.

She decided to renovate the inn to its former glory, fixing what was broken and treasuring what was worth saving, while using eco-friendly resources to give back to nature that had nourished her childhood so well.

And in this she had found help. As if sent along deliberately by a higher force to remind her of all that she had forgotten so abruptly growing up.

Roger was a man who returned to his roots when he discovered that fixing old things helped him restore the broken parts of his soul.

It was inevitable that they would fall in love.

The inn brought them together into constructing a dream home they never knew they shared.

They kept its former name: “The Inn of Hearts”.

First impressions

©CEAyr

I remember when I first arrived in Glasgow. It was an entirely different world. That’s where I saw my first automobile. I was so dumbfounded with this technological miracle of the time. And I was so impressed by the man driving it. He seemed to be elevated in a field much above everyone else. When he got out of the car and looked straight into my eyes, I could feel my blush turning into a fever. I was so embarrassed”.

But grandma, wasn’t that how you met grandpa? In Glasgow?

Yes, that sure was. That was our very first encounter”.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

Until next time…

Let’s stay here”. She looked at him and he could see the longing reflected in her sparkling eyes. She was genuinely asking. All it took for him was to nod positively and she would fly off the hammock she had spent most of the day on and leap joyfully on the sand and into his arms.

This was the best vacation they had in a very long time.

They both felt carefree, relaxed, calm, and truly happy.

You know it’s not possible no matter how much I want to too…

Her eyes dropped, dimming the shine that was emanating from her entire body all this time.

But I promise you we’ll come back soon. Even if only for a weekend”.

The smile returned, but with less glow this time.

Perhaps one of the reasons this holiday was so perfect is because it lasted just the right amount of time”.

She nodded in agreement, as she marvelled at her sun-kissed hair and deeply tanned skin. She gazed past the turquoise blue sea into the horizon as the sun set, adding another memory into her mind.

Summer memories are stored in a drawer of your mind to look back on those dim winter days when you’re lying lazily on the couch.

He was most probably right, she thought. They had found the ideal place to go and relax, to see friends, have fun, and for – if only for a little while – stop worrying about everything and let life happen.

She recalled a Spanish proverb that says “how beautiful it is to do nothing, and then to rest afterward”. How true. This summer she fully embraced its meaning. In fact, it is valid that “sometimes the most productive thing you can do is relax” (Mark Black).

She laid back down on her hammock and watched the sun dive into the sea as the sky turned red.

She breathed in the smell of sea iodine and promised to treasure the moment. Until next time…

“You don’t always need a plan.  Sometimes you just need to breathe, trust, let go and see what happens.” – Mandy Hale

Post Navigation