Anyway . . . I couldn't find it this morning. Not anywhere. Checked all the places it could possibly be. Nada. So, instead of writing something funny/snarky/insightful about high school me versus grown-up me, you get me talking about my (gulp!) feelings.
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| SOURCE: dreamstime |
There's a comfort in knowing these moments are tangibly yours when you need them. A flashback to a first kiss brightens a gloomy day. Wading through sorrows past can place the present into perspective. Some of us hold onto many moments, others only a few. It's not the muchness that matters, it's the instant re-immersion the select artifacts inspire.
One day you seek out a moment, only to find that it's not there. A wave of coldness overtakes you as you frantically search every place it could or ought to be. Did you forget to catalog this memory? No, impossible. Blame begins. Clearly, you're not at fault. You try to suppress the boiling anger that's rising in your throat. You fight the urge to weep at the unexpected loss. And then you scramble.
Scramble to reassemble the pieces of the memory in your mind. You try to imprint the moment, the feel, the sounds, the sights. If it's no longer tangible, it must be made permanent. This takes but a moment - an unwelcome moment. A moment that will live with you all day, creating a cloudy aura of irritation and sadness, imperceptible to most, yet impenetrable by you.
Scramble to reassemble the pieces of the memory in your mind. You try to imprint the moment, the feel, the sounds, the sights. If it's no longer tangible, it must be made permanent. This takes but a moment - an unwelcome moment. A moment that will live with you all day, creating a cloudy aura of irritation and sadness, imperceptible to most, yet impenetrable by you.

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