One fine evening when autumn was round the corner, this beautiful lady, not only in appearance but one whose beauty extends to the depths of her soul, found herself alone while having herself surrounded by her dear friends. Everyone but she enjoyed their cup of hot tea, some delicious cake and a bit of gossip that made their life bearable.
Slowly, all the voices blurred and she found herself staring at a rather intriguing tree. A tree so huge that it alone provided shelter to her entire house for years. The gossip was slowly replaced by the chirping of the birds and the rattling of the windows, which took her back in time where she remembered what being content felt like. A thousand memories flashed in front of her in a split second and in that moment she lived it all once again. The time that was free from judgement, free from entanglement, free from a different kind of chaos, but moreover free from her own thoughts of how she deserved this pain and suffering. A part where he lived even after his death.
I wonder why do we hold on to memories that cause us pain? Do we feel that losing the hurt might make us lose a part of ourselves, the part that we strongly believe brings us happiness, even for a tiny moment? The part that is so close to our heart, that we feel a goodbye might take them away from us? Would they feel that we’re finally giving them up as it would be a sin for us to believe that we deserve more space for the new ones? Would they be angry, happy or terrified of how we could let them slip away because memories are all that we have?