They say life is all about memories and how we live in them and with them. I had my fair share of them and very recently have I had too many of them - some good, some very good and some not so good. Memories are like a selection of images, some illusive and some printed indelibly on the brain, and my grandmother told me, that each image is like a thread, each thread woven together to make a tapestry of intricate texture, and the tapestry tells a story, and the story is our past. This memory with my grandmother is a story too and I am completely indebted to her for sharing such a genius thought with me. Those were the days where any thoughtful talk by the elders was just a brain eater, a big no-no. I remember behaving as though I knew everything in the world and nothing could defy my acts and thoughts; but now I realize how that same exact thought by my grandmother defines me today. I am proud how well I have managed to keep this feature of mine so very dear to me.
The lines below define my time in the most recent past, past that could have held a lot of truth to it; but for reasons beyond human understanding, this past wasn't just meant to be mine...but yeah, no regrets; I love each and every bit of it; and thanks to whom so ever for giving me these.
This is again the same thought,
the same reason,
its reminding me of moments...
moments that I cherish yet struggle to remember
moments that define me
moments that tell me...life moves on
what remains is/are moments...
and the thought that someone should come from somewhere
some voice should beckon me too...
& the thought continues..
I will always love this past and love the reason behind it; for what ever it has given me and for what ever it has made me into.