Memories

Last two years have been a sort of transit or ’preparing for the big shift’ kind of years for us. Our son was on the threshold of ‘flying out of the nest’ and enters hostel life; join a college. And our daughter and I were to shift to a new country. So the last two years most of our conversations, (son-daughter –I) revolved around ‘memories’. What we would like to take with us and what was best forgotten, left behind.

I have always been an avid souvenir and memory collector. Any new place we visit I would insist upon  family photos, just the siblings, all together starting from having breakfast in the resort and winding up with  going back to the room and retire for the night. Everything had to be captured; pictures taken and savored for a future date; fond reminiscences for our leisurely time, old age. I collected innumerable small inconsequential trinkets of sorts, just as a ’memory’ of that place. Going shopping for such nondescript things used to be an exciting event for me and harassment for all the rest. Even photographs became a joke amongst us. We used to then travel a lot and so pictures seemed a time waste for the children. They used to get irritated and hide their face, make jokes and run away whenever I pulled out the dreaded camera. According to them I was being silly, wasting time and none of this really mattered so much. This memory thing was more of an individual fad than a collective consensus.

With time I too lost interest, stopped taking pictures and our last few trips we went and returned, with zero pictures and no souvenirs either! Finally I had succeeded in changing my mindset to suit theirs and they were happy too. Moreover, our travelling also came to a standstill the last five years. Increased studies for my son and my husband being posted abroad the room to make these trips were nullified. My husband travelled crazily because of his work and all he wanted to do at home was stay in, rest, rejuvenate and not travel again. It came to a point where presently, when we were packing up none of us had any memories. We had no recent trips, no pictures, and no souvenirs to pack and take with us to our new homes.

I gradually disposed all the old memories and had never created any new good ones and the quintessential memory of my life was missing. My son had his farewell and he took those pictures, but when it came to the house, and his family he also did not have a single family picture. He was not very concerned then. He was excited about going to hostel, making new friends and new memories were just around the corner for him.

My daughter, though, created a huge (must be a girl thing) collection of’ memories’. She took a lot of pictures with her friends, made presentations and video recorded her time with her friends. She created and gifted an album for her brother too, pictures of his cousin’s and growing up years.

It so happened that the one person who longed and cherished memories, namely me, had none to take with me, neither of the house nor of the people in the house! I, half angrily and half in an attempt at ‘emptying’; the house and the mind; had done away with photos and souvenirs. Nothing cherish able came to mind and I was more a realistic, pragmatic person packing the house and making the shift. This was in stark contrast to the emotional and sentimental fool that I used to be in the past.

Last week my son revisited the old house and messaged this to me; ‘Ma, went to our house. It was so vacant and lonely; looked totally barren. I took pictures of the empty house; my memories. I felt very sad.”  This message set me thinking, what do we human beings hang on to in the name of memories? I so fondly used to collect trinkets over the years and yet today I rely more on my memory for memories! I have nothing tangible for all those good times and yet many spring to the mind the second I close my eyes. The bad ones and the good ones alike seem to have found a permanent spot in the brain’s hardware. Unfortunately the good ones seem to have found a connection to the tangible ‘memories’ I had created for myself, whereas the bad ones somehow seem to have embedded themselves into my subconscious self.  I needed photographs to look, recollect my good days and moments whereas try as I might the sad ones became permanent residents. They had followed me to my present house too. I could not leave them in this big shift that I made. I had ‘emptied’ myself of the good and ended up paying excess baggage for garbage.

On the other hand, my son seemed to be more mature, he was enjoying his present and simultaneously collecting memories of his past. He had photographed the empty house and was taking with him his good memories. My daughter too had settled herself well in the new house and is enjoying everything. She speaks to her old friends and tries to meet new people with the same enthusiasm and gusto. Her tangible and intangible memories were the same, happy and within reach.

I, unconsciously, had developed the habit of storing unwanted memories and the attitude towards cherished good memories seemed to be very slack. I lost the habit of appreciating the small good things that were happening in my daily life. I was hanging on to memories with a very wrong attitude. My memories seemed to depend on photographs or trinkets. The good ones were dependant on tangible things whereas others (which should have been forgotten) were leaving indelible marks on my present. Memories were good or bad depending on the attitude I had towards them. The lonely house was a memory for my son, he remembered more about all the trips we made in the past. And here I was; I could recall barely anything of any place or moment.

My dear son, in his own sweet unassuming mature way had again given me a profound insight into my attitude and thinking of ‘memories’. I surely needed to press the reset button and quickly build an arsenal of beautiful memories, independent of  photographs and souvenirs.