Forgotten Shadows

A melody, long forgotten, drifts away in the wind. An old teddy bear, stolen from loving arms. I wish that I can say I remember how my grandparents had tucked me to bed, that I remember calling old taxis like the proud child I was. I wish that I can say I remember what I was thinking, that I remember how it felt to know there were endless roads to endless possibilities. But all there is in that time of life is just a black, black void, an emptiness that lacks spirit, that lacks memories. Some things we remember forever. Some things we forget.

I remember being strapped on to an airplane, hurtling its way to Canada. Canada. What did that word mean to a wee child on a plane with her father whom she hardly knew? Parting with my grandparents was forlorn, my father was yet a stranger even after the few visits. I hadn't planned on leaving with him; I was a stubborn child, but in the end I had, if not unwillingly. Maybe it was the idea of living with my parents. Maybe it was because of curiosity. Maybe it had felt like the right thing to do.

I remember clutching my sister's hand in the land of Canada for she was the only person I knew, though she was a child too. The only one who held memories instead of the dark shadows following everyone else. It was dense to believe that her fingers could offer anymore protection that a potted flower, but then again, where was it truly safe? I also can remember looking up a bleak corridor of my sister's daycare at a short woman standing by the door. Was she my mother? In the strange land, she felt real. She felt safe.

Many people forget the value of the priceless treasures in their existence. They get so caught up with the 'now' and the 'future', constantly planning ahead. They devote all of their studying days to prepare for their following years, then after their job, they spend their time building a good fortune for their preceding generations. What happened to sitting back and flipping through worn photos and reliving the beautiful memories? Pictures have no words to speak when they have no one to speak to. Memories are what makes a person human. They are what makes up the souls, an important part of personality. The ones which seem to be perennial are often the first ones to fade away. How tragically wretched it is that we forget the names of our first friend. What a pity it is to forget our first teacher. How unfortunate it is to know that some friends are gone.

One time, I accidentally broke an old dilapidated laptop of my father, thinking it was tawdry. After all, he never used it, he never touched it, and it hardly turned on anyways. How wrong I was when he set rain and thunder down on the house after he discovered my folly. Little me couldn't understand why there was all this sorrow for a dingy laptop, why it was such an important computer. Couldn't he get another one? But that rusty computer was his first laptop. Back when there used to be no advanced technology, he had finally saved up enough for the computer. The software was all outdated, but it wasn't for the power that he kept it all these years; it was for the achievement. The pride of remembering the accomplishment was priceless.

Nothing is in the name of forever. Things fade overtime, forgotten promises lie deserted on vacant roads. How foolish it was to believe that the endless opportunities would follow us as we age? The doors get barred in and bolted shut with each path chosen. The ones left behind are often wistfully recalled, slipping out of reach. Some mistakes can be mourned over and built upon, while others cut deep, too deep to ever fix. Some mistakes are best left to be forgotten.

There are memories from the past like sand, the harder you try to grasp it, the quicker it slips away between fingers. The more you try to think about it, the more frustrating it becomes. A fragment of laughter, a scent of jasmine, pinch of colour. Sometimes, the memoirs slowly float back like haunting mirages when you lie down and think, "I remember." The shadows from the past click and find a place in the mind. But sometimes, it is best to just forget.