a sleepy and pensive hello

I’m sure research has been done to determine why the brain remembers what it remembers and under what light the memories are recalled—soft and yellow or cold steel grey—but I’m not going to look it up. I’d rather keep the workings of the brain a mystery for the moment and accept the possibility that the mind filters out the bad stuff so that we can look back on a pleasant past. For me, a lot of little lovely moments outweigh big bad ones, and that makes me wonder how accurately I will recall these difficult past few months. Will I remember the darkness, or will the warm afternoon drives with the sun in my eyes ram their way to the forefront of my mind when I look back?

The past is a patchwork of moments stitched together with subconscious intent. Call it self-preservation, I guess. For me, anyway. I remember the warmth of sunlight filtering onto pages of a book, crisp moonlit walks and sharing the dead of night with a songbird—a mockingbird, likely, but I like to think he was a blackbird.

And what of tonight can I file in the box of readily retrievable memories?

I suppose I won’t know until I retrieve it one day. Though lunch was nice. I sat at the head of the table like I do everyday, eating leftovers and watching men play dominoes while Dr.__ curled up to her cup of coffee at the other end. I remember laughter, but this time I think I just listened and absorbed the contentment.

I hear crickets and other critters outside the window tonight. There is a special box for that one that I add to now and then. It’s best in summer, though, after a rain. That one lives in the “favorites” file.

In any case, despite the stress that resulted in a large chocolate milkshake today, I made good memories that I expect will bring a little light to some future dark day.

bedtime.

‘night

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Author: uncaged

When Picasso painted a blue Seated Woman in a Chair, he was unconsciously thinking of me.

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