It’s weird (and not in a good way) to be able to remember your 3rd birthday celebrations when you are a few months short of celebrating your 40th. And when it’s just not the special days of your infancy that you remember, it feels like a curse. Falling face down from the feeding chair, screaming upon seeing a common house fly from up close for the first time or remembering every gibberish word of the neighbor complimenting how smart I was. I’m the only one in the family who remembers all these junk memories and that makes me…feel lonely. I do feel a little lucky, though. I don’t remember anything prior to my third year in this life and I don’t remember what I had for lunch on a specific date either. Errr…at least not every day of my past life. (The sloppy Joe I had for lunch on 22 September 1991 was exceptional! It deserves a mention :))
Growing up with this blurse (blessing-curse) was pretty difficult, too. Especially, my love life was ruined; remembering every single fight as well as the good stuff while my significant other(s) were able to remember the not so good parts. I never missed an anniversary though, so that was a huge plus. Not being able to forget how I felt after a good night or a good fight, while my partner(s) having fading away feelings was the downside.
Anyway, the best part of this whole memory mojo, was that I became a writer; using a lifetime of memories and retelling them in my stories. Perhaps now, others won’t forget or easily remember what they had forgotten…
P.S: The song that goes with this entry is somehow “Sweet Child of mine” by GNR.