Affection for Memory

Some might call it nostalgia,

others might say the good

old days. A few more might

call it the Salad Days, or

Days of Wine and Roses.

Back when I was young,

or before you were yet a

twinkle in your mother’s

eye. Or you were only

knee high to a grasshopper

or that’s just how things used to be.  

There was an existence

before your existence and

it’s remember it in so many

different and shocking ways,

by so many different people.

I’m afflicted with memories

of an ever growing past

and a fear of the shortening

future. Remember whens are

becoming more frequent than

the soon to be seen.

Perspective on the past can

lighten the darkest history.

I called you terrible names and

felt a deep anger about how

you treated me, but now, after

time has dealt its hand, I don’t

feel that way so strongly.

Memories are softer, smeared

with Vaseline over the

lens of history, smoothing the

rough edges and tenderizing the

original anger into milder

annoyance, then into nearly

nothing at all.

All that is left is the a vacant

feeling that you’ve seen this

before, but know how to handle

it deftly and without too

much kerfuffle. The benefits

of memory, stretched out

in front of you like a familiar

road home.

Home, where your heart is,

beating your own drum to

the melody written by

your memory. 

I dance through the

past with a wry eye on

the future. The tune resembles

one I’ve known forever, but

learn new ways to hear.