My fleeting memory is like a ghost I have to chase. Impatient. Transient. Nomadic, my memory doesn’t wait around for my visit.
The other day I caught a scent that sent me tumbling back to a time I almost forgot, a gentle fragrance smashing the lock of a hidden pocket of memory in my mind.
You came rushing back to me, an image shone bright in my mind, an emotion raged, ringing like a bell in my heart. I closed my eyes so I could enjoy this hit. The soundtrack came alive in my ears, I could hear your laugh and remember the punchline of a joke we shared, a joke so layered in our history so private only we could get. I almost forgot it but I instantly smile as I remember your humour. I remember in a instance exactly where we sat, as you tickled the back of my hand with your nails, innocently tucking your hair behind your ear as you giggled out your playful joke.
Just as soon as it came to me, the image fades and my mind scrambles to chase it, inhaling hard to trick my brain to reopen it again. I turn the memory over and over in my mind, but I’m handling it from the outside rather than tumbling within. I’ll have to wait for the next one, waiting in the fear that you’ll fade away forever as my flimsy memory shakes away what my heart longs to hold on to. I miss you.