I find and you may have also noticed to, that even on the internet an experience one has expreienced, whether it be from the distant past or even recent, is hard to translate to text. Certainly we can give the accoount with a great abundance of detail yet something is always lost in the translation. The emotions get jumbled or are not as clear as what you felt. The intensity experienced, lost.
Knowing this and with it intimately in my mind, I still desire to share it. To let you into my mind, my soul, to let you catch a brief, feeble glimpse of my life. What is this desire? Is it a need? Does everyone has this? While I most definately do not know the answers to these questions and many others for that matter, I find it does not detract me, No, it does not dissuade me from attempting it anyway.
As we go through life sometimes things happen.Things that remind us of who we are.Things that remind us of what we were, where we have been, who we knew. It could be a book we read, a movie, a TV show or even something as simple as a smell. Sometimes the memories they invoke are small glimpses of a past long forgotten. At other times the memory can be as strong as the wind in a hurricane. Impaling our mind with their intensity. The moment is gone as the past once again becomes the present. Then we know nothing else. We know not the day, the hour, nor where we are. For a moment in time, we are the memory.
The show ended and I fell. Back into time long ago. Back when video games had not been invented. Back when there were no microwaves, no VCRS, no DVDS or CDS. Back into a time when, you went outside and made friends. When friends were your entertainment and friendship was more than something romanticized in a book. Back when friendship was real.
The record of friendship spins once more in my mind. A slideshow of images flipping through my mind. Memories of rolling tires down hills to see who could roll it the furthest, of riding bikes on the trials through the woods, launching model rockets and chasing them down, building damns in a feeble attempt to control mother nature. Of even the simple things like playing board games while making jokes and wisecracks with friends.
As the record spins the images in my mind, it also plays the music, the emotions attached to each of these images. The ups and downs of victory and defeat. The joy of finding new things to share and explore. The happiness of the moment spent in laughter.
Then the record ends. But the music still plays. A soft beat of sorrow. For all that is lost, for all that shall never be again… except in memory. Then I wish, the same thing I often wish for, that the record of friendship would break and play no more.
©-2006 JB Thomas