Memories keep coming up. A family of twenty showing up at the front door of my brain.
Uninvited. Unwanted. Unwelcomed.
What do they want from me?
I have made peace with them and moved forward. Elena, stop! You have not done that: that’s a fact.
And let me ask you, what is wrong with going back in memory, with looking at your life in reverse?
They tell you to live in the present, to make peace with your past actions, and yet you are made of those. The moments gone, those you wanted to stay forever, a permanent mental tattoo, and those you wish never happened; the pain still sitting in the heart like a leech that found its home there.
If there were a magic sponge to erase the times I had to keep my rebelling tongue under control I would definitely get that. In bulk. So many snippets of past birthdays, exotic trips, and meals eaten together come up; the six of us quiet, fork to mouth like on autopilot. And the two times I almost suffocated to death are still vivid in my mind as the thought of my mortality – well, ours – comes back more often than not these days.
Moral of the story?
We are all going to die.
So my question is. What are you going to do with the time you have left?
Go back to the past, as if you had a magic wand to bring you back there. Step into the future? A mental inexistent time machine.
Or stay here, with me, one sunrise at a time, breathing this moment into existence?
This was part of day two of the writing workshop.
We were given ten minutes to write this with the title given.
Thanks so much for reading. I love your comments.