I have resisted all week in writing about this week’s Wicked Wednesday prompt: “Memory Lane”. But I couldn’t keep my mind from going there. Such a dangerous place to go for me. Even thinking about it sends a quiver of dread, of anxiety, through me.
I live with my memories – with the pain of them – so close to the surface, even now.
Today, for some unknown reason, as I typed “November 1” in a document, my breath caught, tears blinded me. I don’t know why, or what triggered the response. I’m afraid to look back, to search for the source of the pain.
I keep thinking, berating myself, “Aren’t you the fuck over it yet?”
And yet I know I’m not.
I have dozens of Scavenger Hunts that I – we – completed…but I can’t bring myself to post them.
Even now, almost three years on, I just can’t do it.
I have so many wonderful memories, though.
Such joy, such passion, such love.
Little by little I can look at them, sideways, out of the corner of my eye, I can sneak up on them, feel the joy in them, before the sadness engulfs me. Before I remember…
How do you get over someone that filled your world? That defined it? That was your world?
Once upon a time I wrote story, about a race of people that had their memories carved from them, physically, by choice. That was before W died. Was it prescient? Would I have all memories of him excised from my flesh if I could?
Hurting, as I am now, I want to say (scream) YES…please, please take them from me. But.
But there is the me that later will treasure remembering…I hope…walking down Memory Lane.
To read other – probably much sexier, more wicked, more interesting and less depressing – posts in this week’s topic, click the rainbow.