Its The Memories We Didnt Know We Were Making That Kill Us The Most

Brook Cagle

Sometimes, we dont realize we are in the middle of a cache until the moment has passed us by and we step back from developments in the situation. Days afterwards, we begin to think about the moment, investigating the details of each conference; what the words intend, how the actions were or were no longer connected to the words. The facial peculiarities; the nature they changed over the course of the conversation and how we could see through them but couldnt get the justification you were looking for. We inscribe that minute in our intelligences, trying to hold on to something.

Its not ever this acces. Sometimes, we know we are constituting reminiscences in the exact minute they are happening. We find ourselves stopping and suggesting, sometimes out loud, Ill never forget this moment and we dont. We perpetrate it to recollection; the sees, clangs, and smells. These are the easy ones because we set out to do these rememberings. Its like our 10 -year old-time family journey to Disney; we know its a moment our parents devoted a gazillion dollars on and that while we may have felt like we were in the swarms of thrust pedigree recreation, we still “re coming out” with some solid rememberings and some epic clas photos with outfits that still have us asking why would we be dressed that practice Its fast to check why we have and hold on to reminiscences like that. Or recognitions of our grandparents, how we used to spend celebrations and weekends and random Tuesdays playing posters and watching the Golden Girls. These minutes have determined our lives. They are the kind of circumstance where we can close our eyes, smell a aroma or sounds a ballad or watch an occurrence and be transported back.

But the caches we didnt know we were shaping; the ones that we cant possibly know are even going to become retentions? Those are the ones that kill us most. They are the ones that disguise themselves as a speedy tour to the store for something as incidental as deodorant or Jell-O and wind up being engrained on our abilities for years to come. They are the ones where a song can stop us dead in our trails, smiling or screaming( or maybe both) because they draw us so close to the moment that it hurts. They are buried in stenches we forgot prevailed that fire by us, altering our chiefs as we begin to quietly remember about the moment held to that one smell, experiencing like weve been punched in the gut by life.

Turns out that even the best recollections merely fix us miss the things the latter are bind to; the mode stuffs were, the things that could have been but couldnt then. We ache for these moments to be so much more than caches; to be pieces we could relive, if even just for a moment. And perhaps we would change the results and maybe the results of this would change us( more than it have so far been ). And maybe nothing get changed but wed hold on to the person for just a second longer, a lot harder, pushed a little more for that goodbye caressed then maybe, we wouldnt be so worried that that moment would be our last recollection

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