Why do good things have to change? Why do people have to move away, get sick, grow old, die, split up, or otherwise end the relationship they had in my life? Even if it was only in my mind? I know it’s inevitable – I understand that. But today, I’m asking why, even if it is a rhetorical question…
Even though I was the one who moved away and created change, my memories stand still in time, and the emotional part of my personality expects the old days to always be there, and be mine again when I choose to seek them out.
I hate having my memories messed with. Memories are snapshots of my life’s experiences that have made me who I am. I don’t necessarily dwell on them, and certainly not on the bad ones, but they’re there to flip through – and mostly I cherish them.
Some snapshots become a little fuzzy around the edges with time, even the good ones, but they’re still there, and they’re still mine. A nice, neat shoebox jammed full of changes.
The intellectual side of my brain accepts change. I’ve changed. It’s been mostly gradual but there have been a few doozies. Cliffs that I unwittingly edged closer and closer to until my toes hung off the edge, unfeeling, unafraid. Until, oops! My legs are swept out from under me and I’m freefalling and don’t even know it. Yet.
I work my way out from under the piles of debris that attempt to destroy who I am. It may happen more slowly each time, yet I always come through it. A cat with nine lives. More than a little worse for wear, but I’m still the same good thing underneath the scars, and I always remember who I am.
No more bad news for awhile please. Or unwanted news. The kind of news that I don’t expect, but loiters in the back of my intellect, shuffling around smoking cigarettes before tossing the final one to the ground, crushing it out in an emphatic announcement that it’s time to unleash a furious twist of fate on something good.
I’ve learned to partition my brain in an attempt to protect and distance myself from the news of unwanted change that happens with increased frequency as I get older. Although I may seem calm, accepting, and even stoic – my heart thrums to my empathic soul’s sadly pining refrains that live in my emotional being, to lament the winds of change.
© 2014 deb davies thorkelson | words: may 2nd, 2014 | family photos: Good Spirit Lake – photographers unknown (1) Lyall Davies 1932-2011 (2) original log cabin “U Need-A Rest” built in 1933 | RIP Uncle Lyall, RIP precious old log cabin…
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