The prompt that allows us to write about anything we want:
I sometimes forget my own birthday and misspell my name, but I can somehow remember my phone number from twelve years ago and the date I first got my glasses. In seventh grade, I specifically made a list of my three earliest memories. I wanted to treasure them forever and was terrified of forgetting them, because then they would be lost once and for all. Well, I forgot where I put the list several years ago, but I still remember the three. The first two I have to admit I have forgotten most of them, and perhaps my mind even manipulated them a bit by making up the lost space with photographs or with what I told myself happened time and time again. But the third one still seems vivid in my head - now whether it's real or not, I'm not sure.
I remember wearing on my wrist a red backpack from a teddy bear and the green carpet on the floor. I was in a dim room, and there was a crowd of people across the railing that divided that room from the main hall. It was my first time at a wedding and was about three years old, sitting on a bench by myself. I am absolutely sure that it was a wedding, but I seem to have no recollection of the actual ceremony. Just that room I remember, as well as the ride home afterwards when my dad bought me a toy stamp.
When the ceremony was over, everybody came out dressed in their traditional clothing and chattering. The bride and everyone else went out to the main lobby passing by me, and my eyes naturally followed the figure in a big white dress. When I stood up to look over the railing, she was crying. Weddings are supposed to be happy and joyful, but there she was, sobbing. I simply could not understand - why would she cry on her wedding day? I did not think anything happened during the ceremony - everybody else was talking to each other and having fun - so just why was I seeing tears? Completely confused, I asked my mother as she came up next to me, "If she's happy, then why is she crying?" Before she left my side to go over to another guest, she told me, "People sometimes cry when they're so happy that they can't help it." I stood where I was and said "oh". Honestly, I was still confused, trying to understand what my mom had just told me.
That day, I was not too happy for the bride; it just did not feel right to me. But today, I can't even imagine how happy she must have been to start sobbing in front of everyone. I surely did not realize it then, but it really is the small memories and their lessons such as this that make us who we are. I treasure this memory, not only because it is one of my earliest, but also because it tells me how my younger self had to learn what seems so simple but so human - a type of knowledge we take for granted.
Lately, I tend to disregard any thoughts on the past because there are more imminent questions to be answered: how long would it take me to do this outline, do I have to play in gym today, and where would I go to school? Yes, lately it has been about the future. But if you were to ask me if I look toward the past or the future, I would say I look both ways. Do I live in the present? I honestly don't know what that means. All I know is that I take whatever past I have, its memories, lessons, and the many regrets, to learn what I want, whether it be a reachable goal or an impossible dream, in my future.
I sometimes forget my own birthday and misspell my name, but I can somehow remember my phone number from twelve years ago and the date I first got my glasses. In seventh grade, I specifically made a list of my three earliest memories. I wanted to treasure them forever and was terrified of forgetting them, because then they would be lost once and for all. Well, I forgot where I put the list several years ago, but I still remember the three. The first two I have to admit I have forgotten most of them, and perhaps my mind even manipulated them a bit by making up the lost space with photographs or with what I told myself happened time and time again. But the third one still seems vivid in my head - now whether it's real or not, I'm not sure.
I remember wearing on my wrist a red backpack from a teddy bear and the green carpet on the floor. I was in a dim room, and there was a crowd of people across the railing that divided that room from the main hall. It was my first time at a wedding and was about three years old, sitting on a bench by myself. I am absolutely sure that it was a wedding, but I seem to have no recollection of the actual ceremony. Just that room I remember, as well as the ride home afterwards when my dad bought me a toy stamp.
When the ceremony was over, everybody came out dressed in their traditional clothing and chattering. The bride and everyone else went out to the main lobby passing by me, and my eyes naturally followed the figure in a big white dress. When I stood up to look over the railing, she was crying. Weddings are supposed to be happy and joyful, but there she was, sobbing. I simply could not understand - why would she cry on her wedding day? I did not think anything happened during the ceremony - everybody else was talking to each other and having fun - so just why was I seeing tears? Completely confused, I asked my mother as she came up next to me, "If she's happy, then why is she crying?" Before she left my side to go over to another guest, she told me, "People sometimes cry when they're so happy that they can't help it." I stood where I was and said "oh". Honestly, I was still confused, trying to understand what my mom had just told me.
That day, I was not too happy for the bride; it just did not feel right to me. But today, I can't even imagine how happy she must have been to start sobbing in front of everyone. I surely did not realize it then, but it really is the small memories and their lessons such as this that make us who we are. I treasure this memory, not only because it is one of my earliest, but also because it tells me how my younger self had to learn what seems so simple but so human - a type of knowledge we take for granted.
Lately, I tend to disregard any thoughts on the past because there are more imminent questions to be answered: how long would it take me to do this outline, do I have to play in gym today, and where would I go to school? Yes, lately it has been about the future. But if you were to ask me if I look toward the past or the future, I would say I look both ways. Do I live in the present? I honestly don't know what that means. All I know is that I take whatever past I have, its memories, lessons, and the many regrets, to learn what I want, whether it be a reachable goal or an impossible dream, in my future.
