How do you write down memories?
As a kid, I believed that I can take photographs of the memories I would like to remember until the day I die. I imagine that I am taking a picture (complete with the flash and all) and try to capture everything that is happening during that exact moment – the scene, the sounds, the taste, the smell, the feeling – and put it in a small box in a huge cabinet.
Apparently, my brain is organized.
And these boxed memories aren’t special days. Most of them are ordinary days that I willfully tell myself to remember and to keep as fresh as the time it was happening. Memories of holding a lover’s hand in a cab, taking a science quiz in high school, driving through SLEX with a good friend, eating a really good spaghetti in someone’s house, sitting in my favorite coffee place with my mac, remembering a certain movie line (after watching it for more than ten times), throwing eggs outside my condo unit, smelling a book after opening it – my boxes just keeps going on and on and on.
The two weeks have passed just made me buy a new ginormous cabinet for my brain.
So how do I write down my memories?
The truth is, I can’t. I am not a good writer. I will not be able to use the right words and give justice to how that moment felt exactly. Not even as I capture it with my camera will I ever give glory to the wonderful creation Direk has shown me.
Direk has given me my sweetest escape, and just like always, he has not only given me what I want, but what I truly need without even me asking for it.
I truly felt I could have died last week, but since I am still up and doing this entry (which I have been stalling for quite sometime now) I have to brace myself because knowing Direk, he still has a couple of tricks up His sleeve. I can almost hear Him say, “you thought that was amazing, wait until you get this.”
So I lock everything down in my messily organized brain, and pick them up everytime I feel like the world is crashing down on me. Even now as I try to think of an exact moment I would like to write about, my box-keeper (I keep people inside my head) opens a box one after another, also very excited and not sure which one I want to write about. Maybe, later on, when the time is right, I would be able to bring them down, one by one and try to give justice to how that moment felt. I guess for now, I shall simmer and bask in this glow.
My sunburn is peeling, but my memories are seared to my mind, and my heart.