Memories, like leaves, start green and soft and lush. Life pulsates through them—pulling nutrients from the soil, soaking up light from the sun.

Each day they grow, dancing with the wind. When it rains, droplets—like crystal tears—kiss the foreheads of these vibrant green toddlers as they wave and dance and love.

At the peak of their journey, the very top of their game, things change: Winds shift; air cools; water (once the bearer of life) wears a frozen necklace to the party. The leaves grow old, shifting from glowing green to frigid gold.

So, too, our memories—once lively and living—fall to the ground, become brittle and brown, until they fall apart, devolving into ever smaller pieces. Then finally dust, swallowed by the earth, mixing with the dirt. Gone.

With Winter’s white blanket hiding their ever-lost graves, they await Spring’s thaw—when nature’s nudge will launch their journey from dirt to roots, through trunks and limbs, to touch the sun again—bringing joyful memories back to life.

Copyright 2020

The eye’s thread

with each

golden year —

loose ends

tied underneath.

A tapestry

meets trimming shears;

my mind plays

hide and seek.

Tossed into

a wishing well;

patina covers copper —

penny for a thought,

do tell,

if only I

could capture.

Treasured dreams

from wishes

lost beneath

the light of sea;

sleeping with the fishes,

ghosts of

sunken memories —

locked behind

a two way mirror,

the former me remains,

etched upon

my soul

&

tears

that scratch

the window pane.

for every moment

we have lived

in love

that is now

a mere shadow

in the falling

darkness

of your mind;

for every joy

every sorrow

even anger

or regret

there is a tear…

even if

it has not fallen

yet.

One day when I was sixteen, I was prescribed Prozac. This was my first psychiatric medication. And I made a decision.

I made the decision to embrace the side effects.

Over the years, I have taken more and more of these drugs. Probably more than a dozen total. And with each new prescription, with each swallow, I embraced the fact that my memory might start to elude me.

I made the choice to spend my life happy, if forgetful. That was the trade. My memories as collateral.

I am convinced my prescription drug use has absorbed my memories. My brain is completely fried, unable to contain them.

My memories are somewhere up in the universe.

Untouchable.

Swallowed.

Where do our memories go when they are forgotten

I believe they stay in our hearts

Add to the love we feel for those closest to us

Or perhaps they fly to the heavens

Reminding those we have lost of the wonderful times we had together

Live in the present

As it is all we truly have

Déjà vu due is the common view

As our memories are never fully subdued

In line the episodes sit

Close bye bidding their time forever like this

On the back burner those warmer

So more readily they can be brought up quick

While other much cooler don’t stress the subject and get lost way back behind the molars.

Off the top of my head?

Not often stuck are they at the tip of your tongue

As rarely they’ve use for any if one

Outdone by the battle cry’s of the regulars

The reserves I’ve heard whispers of.

But know not the names of a great many their sum

Believed there indeed so as to be drummed up in a pinch if need be

I wouldn’t bet my life on it though

Do you remember that time, when you were six and lost your favorite bear? What about when you told your first lie. No? Do you remember learning how to walk? I do. I remember every moment of your life. I am your memory. That is my name and I love my job. I store your memories. So when something happened and you can’t remember, it isn’t gone, it is with me, Memory. Sometimes I am in the place you can remember or what you like to, ‘on the tip of your tongue,’. I might not always be able to give you all of your memories when you need them but I try my best. If you ever are taking a test I try extra hard but sometimes you get so anxious that I have trouble finding my way. It is like an earthquake. You know, everyone has a Memory. But don’t worry, your memories won’t get mixed up with others because I am your personal Memory. And yes I am talking to you. No not someone who is on another screen, You. YOU! How to know your even reading this is a secret but I mean wouldn’t I know, I am your memory. Memories will never be gone just somewhere safely held.

Memories are little boxes. Some are wrapped up carefully and stored on a high shelf. Some are opened frequently and dusted often. Some are crammed together on the floor or desk, to be grabbed and thrown back at will. And some are packed away in the back to molder, forgotten, on shelves in the garage.

A memory starts like any other, as a sensation. Imagine - every second each of your five senses takes in data and records what it sees. This stage lasts for about two seconds though, because no one can hold that much data all at once. So if the sensation is paid attention to and rehearsed, it moves on while the rest are discarded, thrown away to rejoin the world they all-too-recently left.

The new memory goes around and around as it is thought about, being held in the brain or tossed back and forth between ideas. Memories can last indefinitely in this state - just as long as they are paid attention to. When they are discarded in favor of more recent acquisitions the do not get shoved in the dumpster or dropped at Goodwill, but slip into the back where they are carefully packed in neat rows and labeled so as to be easily retrievable if necessary. Memories can stay here for a lifetime, fermenting quietly in the background until with a swoosh they are summoned back into the light by a smell, a familiar turn of phrase. Then they are back to the second stage, batted back and forth until focus lessens and they slip into the unconcious mind.

This tube of recollection, from sensory input to active learning to memory is a loop that is replayed billions upon billions of times every day, input discarded before it is even turned into a memory and memories discarded to make room for something else. But here's the thing: long-term storage in the brain is not just timeless, it is spaceless as well. Just as a memory can last a lifetime just to be brought back to life by the most mundane thing so to can there be limitless memories, all stored in the tiny crevasses and crannies of the brain we are afraid to look in for fear of what we might find we have forgotten.

Because if we're not sure if it's there, then we still have a hope that it might exist.

She used to read me stories upon her bed

And tell me tales I’ve never heard

She made up stories that made me laugh

And taught me lessons she had learned.

I didn’t know, then, they were her stories

The characters, people in her life

She shared her memories both good and bad

Those things she said upon her bed.

She told me ways she used to live

Her pictures were inside my head

I heard the voices in her stories

And turned the pages in my mind.

And when I grew up and made my own life

I repeated the things you said upon your bed

Your stories and characters became my heritage; for, your memories were a part of me.

And even now when you we visit, I’m reminded of your greatest stories - those memories.

They were never just to entertain me,

but to help me hold onto the memories

Those things that once filled your head, but now slowly diminishing

They’ll never fade; for, I make you this promise

Although you may one day forget your memories

I’ll tell your story, remembering all those things that filled your head

The things you shared with me upon your bed.

And now as I have my own babies, I’ll sit upon my bed

And tell your tales and your stories and share with them your memories.