MEMORIES are like my fed stray cats, always waiting in ambush. And I am the old rat, always caught unaware. I admit, these sly feline-like memories for me, leave one woozy especially whenever one’s guard is down. At times, before one drifts off to sleep, instead of sheep to be counted, they come dancing on my mind’s stage as if it’s show time. Us aging rats, we remember it may have been different a long time ago during the early years, when they just simply had no chance at distracting our pubescent minds.
While still avid competitors in the rat race, the thing called sentimentality, defined by Wiki as “that shallow, uncomplicated emotion at the expense of reason”, never really had any chance at success among the young as they rush about their day to day with nary a care or empathy in the world, which equally-sped by in pace. Looking back now, that precisely might have been one of the follies of our youth, not looking back. Sentimentality, eat my dust.
Yet, who’s to say?
Not to be too harsh, of course there were few and far in between tender times assigned for recollection. In the old days, school retreats, usually held during Holy Week or near graduations, may perhaps be a few of them. However, as many can relate, these were imposed activities (tells you something about our force-fed education no?), and being unpopular, they fail to qualify. Not like these spontaneous sniping of cat-like old memories on unsuspecting common old geezers.
I’ve an old friend from college who now lives in Germany. With both sons already living separate lives, the divorcee in her had for a while, tried to be at peace living alone. Then, when her mom passed here, her only reason to visit was gone forever and she found that memories proved to be sad companions. So now, even with covid, she never fails to hit the road whenever she can. I’d not even be surprised if she booked a flight to the moon. I had asked, what happens when the cats come in the night? They only stay a few hours, she said. That’s one source of inspiration right there.
In the end, I guess we take in what we can and live with that. Like her and many others, I wish to eventually move in with both these feline memories, as well as what’s left of my demons. A guy on IG just explained it clearly, while I browsed his seconds-long video. Life is nothing but an hourglass. You can’t do anything about the sand already at the bottom. It is the past. Neither can you do something about the portion still at the top. It is the future. The ones at the middle, as they slowly fall, is your present. Though fleeting, it is for you to enjoy while they last. While it may be too late to turn hedonistic now, seize the day might be more like it. I’ve already gone beyond eating, drinking and being merry… Tomorrow is another day.
HONORING MY MOTHER
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