I have always been distracted, or so the world would tell me. My lack of focus, my drifting thoughts, my non-conforming mind, would pin me as scatterbrained or absentminded. There is some truth in these statements. I don’t always hold eye contact and can flip a conversation in mere seconds, but I am always attentive. More than even I know.
I remember a cool day a few years ago out in California. The breeze brought in new scents from the unventured horizon line. The sun persisted in attempting to break through the clouds. The growths of grass swayed in such a way that you could hear the faint whispers of their stories. A simple moment so ingrained in my mind, yet distant in time.
I remember a summer down in North Carolina. Bonfire spirits filled the air. Laughter roared as aged children rolled down grassy hills. The stars looked down, beckoning our gaze. A simple moment so timid yet bold,
I remember a hike with a companion. My gentle canine as my feels. The woods, her most vast form of exploration. The world far-reaching, yet her world so near. A timid moment seemingly everlasting, yet fleeting in perspective.
I think of these moments often. I think of these moments when I feel I have failed. When I have fallen short. When my mind has wandered. If I can remember these moments so vividly and instinctually, these moments where I felt one with nature, where I felt as though I was truly myself, then that is my reality. It brings me back to peace with who I am.
I observe the world around me, I think. I like to look at the world in a new way. When I stare at a rock I think of it, not just as it is, but as it was and what it may become. For you see, the world is constantly changing, just as you and I are right now. The world is continuing to learn new things and soak up new knowledge, just as you and I.
These are my wandering memories. Informally tied together, these moments make me feel complete. They make me feel purposeful and happy. Wonderful and full of kindness. These are the moments that make me feel like myself. These are my wandering memories.
“Memory is the diary we carry about with us.” – Oscar Wilde