MC's Whispers

Whispering Silences

Archive for the tag “memories”

Box of Memories

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Three words. Four sides. A lifetime. A box, however big or small, is used to store things you don’t want to throw away, yet don’t want them in plain sight. The box we most cherish is the one that holds our memories. Some keep it inside their head. In that special place with all the thoughts they love to bring to mind. Others have a physical container filled with memorabilia from times that were too special for them to ever forget.

Each memory box is unique for every person who has one. Because not everyone has the same perception of the things that matter. Some people are overly sensitive, saving theatre tickets, beer caps, hand-written notes, printed photos, even dried-up flowers. They are things that encase more than a simple memory; a feeling that is worth remembering. Because it was at that time when they felt serene, loved and happy. When they believed that ‘forever’ is more than just wishful thinking but rather a word that could gain the meaning they want if they try hard enough.

Others have boxes with fewer things: books, music, photo frames, souvenirs, even clothes. More practical entities of what a memory entails.

But all have something in common: the memories we create are the feelings that make us stronger, more optimistic and resilient. They are proof that happiness does exist and will last as long as you are willing to nourish it.

No matter how many boxes of memories we create, we must all believe in the beauty of a happy ending. And the fact that we each deserve one.

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Marked hearts

©Roger Bultot

“Do you remember this part of our walk on our first date, when we timidly held hands? I was trembling with excitement. Your smile illuminated the entire cloister.

And then I turned and looked into your eyes. They were sparkling.

I still remember our first kiss. How can I ever forget?

You came into my life for a brief moment and left your mark on it forever”.

She held the old photo in hand and read his handwritten letter as she walked along the cloister.

It took him a decade to find her.

And now she had come to him.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

Acts of Kindness

©Renee Heath

How can we turn that frown upside down?” Grandfather asked the young boy with his right hand extended before him. In it was a red candy-stick. The boy immediately smiled as he grabbed the sweet.

It was incidents like this that had remained imprinted in memory.

Like a hot beverage to soothe a bleeding soul. Or a tight hug from a person you loved to make the troubles go away.

It was even excursions for camping in the mountains to clear your head.

Eventually, he realised it was not the things themselves that mattered. It was the acts of kindness.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

May you always…

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There are certain things you (can) do to get your mind off certain circumstances. Especially when those thoughts cause a change in mood, dishearten you and bring you down. One of the most recommended one is to clean the house. It is the best way to keep yourself occupied. Plus you get the added bonus of having a clean lodging afterwards.

When Marie put on her rubber gloves and took to general cleaning, she never expected the surprise she found wedged between the living room wall and the bookcase.

It was a note folded in four. It appeared worn in the sands of time.

It was handwritten in a blue pen with calligraphic lettering that revealed sentiment in the script.

May you live each day as if it is a wonder. May you revel at each new experience. May you never cease to learn, to read, to live. May you always be inspired by everything around you so that you too may be the inspiration for those around you. May you acknowledge your worth even when others don’t.  May you never stop caring for others, no matter who they are, small or big, two-legged or four-legged, bigger or smaller. May you dream, aspire, struggle, accomplish. May you comprehend that we achieve something even in our failures. May you be brave enough to survive the hardships, take the tough choices and be courageous enough to change things when it is time. May you always smile. May you never stop believing in magic.

It was signed ten years ago. Love, mum.

Sculpted memories

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©J.S. Brand

The things you remember are the things that are strange. The ones out of the ordinary, that are often nothing like expected.

When Mario told her he had a surprise-picnic planned, what immediately sprung to mind was something romantic, in a green field, with tall trees, flowers, silence and plenty of fresh air for them to breathe in and relax. They would also preferably be alone.

What happened though, was something Marisol could never forget. Mario took her to the neighbourhood park, where he prepared a mini-barbecue, under a sculpted tree.

He said this would surely create a lasting memory.

 

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

The truth about memories

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In those moments when you stop and just listen to yourself breathe, what passes through your mind? In those instances when the answer to “what are you thinking” is sincerely “nothing”, what is it that occupies the images in your head?

Often, it is memories. Past experiences, feelings, sensations, things we lived, saw, said.

The truth about memories is that you choose to remember them. You select which ones you carry around with you.

They are usually the happy ones; the ones from your childhood playing carefree with your parents and siblings without any problems hovering above you. It’s those instances that are filled with heartfelt laughter and genuine love. True unconditional deep-down mind-blowing good times.

But there are also the painful ones. The memories that have scarred you. That have broken you and showed you that you are stronger than you then thought because you managed to heal and survive. They are the experiences that have irreparable placed their mark on you. The ones you’ve never truly overcome, either because you’ve not forgiven them or because the hurt serves as a reminder to always be cautious. They are the memories that feel like a punch in the stomach and a cringe in the heart every time they are recalled to mind. But they are too part of what shaped you.

Memories, either good or bad, are part of who we are. They are what cause us to become the personalities we are, with the mentalities we have, the thoughts we carry and the ideas we generate. They are what are responsible for our moods or mood swings, for our optimism or realism, for our cynicism, our hope, our despair, every aspect of what makes us….unique.

The catch, however, is to remember that these memories belong to the past. The present is there for you to create more memories, to live a life worth remembering in the future.

 

Erasing a memory

https://image.shutterstock.com/image-photo/moscow-russia-july-05-2016-260nw-1059717869.jpgSarah woke up one morning remembering nothing. She had completely erased him from her life, as if he had never existed for her. She had wished so hard to forget him that, one day, she eventually did.

She recalled nothing. None of the romantic dates, the surprises, the laughter, the trips, the flowers, all the things they did together somehow never existed in her memory. It was a slate wiped blank. And together with it, so had all the heartbreak, the quarrels, the violent outbursts, the tears, they had all vanished.

She felt serene.

After all, how could something you did not remember affect you, let alone hurt you?

She decided to go for a walk in the park. Oblivious to the fact that it was right at that park lake where they first met.

Now, even if she saw him, he would mean nothing to her. He would simply be a stranger among the many strangers living their own lives around us.

Plus, what – really – were the odds that she would bump into him? Of all the hundreds, thousands of people we walk past every day?

She stopped to gaze at the small, delicately sculpted fountain in the middle of the lake. For some reason she was always mesmerised by it.

You know it was created by an unfortunate father after his daughter drowned in this lake chasing a duck? He let her out of his sight for a moment and that’s when it happened. Sometimes that’s all it really takes. A moment”.

The voice sounded oddly familiar. But she couldn’t recall from where.

That was his conversation-starter that time too. But Sarah didn’t remember that.

Neither did Todd.

He was standing next to her in a khaki trousers and salmon-coloured shirt loosely hanging over it. His smile radiated the sunshine. He winked at her and her heart fluttered.

But something was holding her back. As if telling her “no”. It was an inexplicable restraint.

She smiled shyly and walked away, saying nothing. She hoped he wouldn’t follow her.

She was searching for a prince. And he wasn’t it.

 

The dried-up creek

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©Karen Rawson

It was an autumn morning without a cloud in the sky. It had been days since they had raised their gaze to so much blue. Today they were celebrating. It didn’t really matter what; there is always something to rejoice each day. So they decided to do something different. Life is only worth it if you take risks and believe you can succeed.

After what seemed like endless turns, they reached a forgotten stairwell that led to the remnants of a creek. It was muddy and dull.

This used to be a park. It was where I first saw you”.

 

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

A shop of memories

chicagomg

©Marie Gail Stratford

It’s strange how certain places, songs, things, are associated with specific people. Maira had that. Every time she visited the city, she would always drop by her favourite department store.

And every time it would bring back memories.

She had visited that store so many times with different people. All with whom she shared a special bond.

That bond was rejuvenated whenever she stepped through the big glass door.

Even if she was alone, she always felt that sweet melancholy of beautiful times passed.

And so, each time, she always bought something from there. As a reminder of the visit.

 

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

The box under the nightstand

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/2f/fc/0f/2ffc0f66ff6daa65af6bdfdd9de45066.jpgThere was a box she had in the open space under her nightstand. It was a usual cardboard box that seemed to be made out of wood and was beautifully decorated with colours and abstract figures. She treasured the box because inside she kept her happiness.

She had never shown the box to others. Sometimes, there are things you don’t share. Things you keep for yourself.

Those closest to her, who had the honour and privilege of entering her bedroom, always found that box under the nightstand to be a mystery. Because even when asked about it, she would simply smile, her eyes lighting up, gaze somewhere else, even blush a little, and respond with just a smile.

No-one ever tried to open the box. Because for some things you respect the other’s privacy. And often, a little mystery keeps your heart pounding a bit faster and your mind racing with all the possible scenarios of what it might contain.

The box under her nightstand was renewed often and she believed that as long as she would have something to put in it, life was good.

 

Also part of Daily Prompt: Mystery

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