Gallery of Memories

Was doing something for a friend tonight, sorta involved me attempting to draw...lol...yeah if you've ever seen me attempt it then you know how funny it ends up looking. Anyway I was doing that, opened up a little notepad and it had a message, which I had already read a long time ago, for me from an ex, just her email address but it brought a swell of....past pleasent thoughts to mind.

Like most humans I live not only in the present, the hopes for my future, but also in the memories of my past. I like to think of memories as pieces of art that I can look at whenever I please, my own personal gallery. This thought was pleasent and brought a smile to my lips, I remembered how beautiful she is, how sweet and kind she could be, and how I saw so much potential in her. When I think back to her I hear slow jazz music and I see that gorgeous face smiling at me and I'm there again for a moment.

The same is true when I look back at other memories of other exes, family members, friends, ect. The mind's memories is a gallery of art and in each room the appropriate music is playing for those memories.

I think of my grandmother and no matter what the memory, happy or sad, it brings tears to my eyes. The weight of such loss, the refusal to accept death as a natural portion of life weighs on me, brings those tears out that few other things in this world can.

I love my memories with all my heart and soul, as I love the tears. It reminds me of my humanity, that I can feel like anyone else.