Flipping through the pages if my diary, the sound of rain drops pattering against the window pane ,a mug of hot coffee in my hand I come across a dried rose concealed safely between the pages of the big fat book filled with excerpts from my life. The rose finds its place in the book as it is a part of my life and I keep it safely just as all those memories poured into the book.If the book were a pensieve,the rose would invoke a memory of great prominence.
The dried rose,as I hold it delicately so as to not crumble the pieces and destroy a memory tells me a long forgotten tale.A tale which had taken a back seat as other things had crowded my mind.But one look at the rose brings a rush of all those memories,the smiles associated with it,the feelings evoked in receiving it and the prominence of he occasion.
The other memory that immediately gushes into my mind is that of the long forgotten promise of a better future,the pain of putting all those happy times to rest,the efforts I took to focus my mind on other less important things.
It reminds me of my struggle to survive,my struggle to not give up,the strength to not let myself crumble to pieces,to pick up myself although bruised,to walk all those miles to cross the line of defeat and win,the zeal it took me to put on a smile on those lips and a stop in those tears,the efforts I took to fund happiness when there was none on the horizon.
As tears dwell into my eyes ,the thought of crumbling it to pieces races through my mind and I have a strong urge to destroy it,to destroy the part of my life which I want to go back and change. But then another thought makes me decide otherwise,it would be foolish to destroy something that once upon a time gave me happiness,the memory of which brought a smile on my lips once again.The memories which give me strength ,the memories which show me the mirror and tell me that I can now face anything that comes my way .
And then I place the rose safely back between the pages .How could I destroy the dries rose that tells me a tale...the dried rose that tells me my tale.
The dried rose,as I hold it delicately so as to not crumble the pieces and destroy a memory tells me a long forgotten tale.A tale which had taken a back seat as other things had crowded my mind.But one look at the rose brings a rush of all those memories,the smiles associated with it,the feelings evoked in receiving it and the prominence of he occasion.
The other memory that immediately gushes into my mind is that of the long forgotten promise of a better future,the pain of putting all those happy times to rest,the efforts I took to focus my mind on other less important things.
It reminds me of my struggle to survive,my struggle to not give up,the strength to not let myself crumble to pieces,to pick up myself although bruised,to walk all those miles to cross the line of defeat and win,the zeal it took me to put on a smile on those lips and a stop in those tears,the efforts I took to fund happiness when there was none on the horizon.
As tears dwell into my eyes ,the thought of crumbling it to pieces races through my mind and I have a strong urge to destroy it,to destroy the part of my life which I want to go back and change. But then another thought makes me decide otherwise,it would be foolish to destroy something that once upon a time gave me happiness,the memory of which brought a smile on my lips once again.The memories which give me strength ,the memories which show me the mirror and tell me that I can now face anything that comes my way .
And then I place the rose safely back between the pages .How could I destroy the dries rose that tells me a tale...the dried rose that tells me my tale.
Though heartbreaking, this post is motivational too. Never be ashamed or sad about something that once made you happy! :)
ReplyDeleteMemories are threads of gold, never withering or unchanging, unlike people or times.
Very true aayesha ...and yet all most of us want to do is forget the past and keep wishing that it was different.
Deletenice post that relates to my life too.
ReplyDelete