What do the memories bring back?

    A pen – to register; a key –

That winds through secret wards

Are well assigned to Memory

By allegoric Bards … 

Back in the day, when I was in the primary section, I got an assignment to write an essay on' The most unforgettable day of my life'. I did not have to think much as I had recently met with a life threatening accident, I wrote about it. I don't know why this memory pops up in my head whenever I think of memories. **coughs**Inception**coughs**

Also, for understanding why I began with a Wordsworth poem, read the previous post, or else you can live without the understanding.

Isn't it strange how some memories won't let you sleep, while some act like cushions after a bad day? This question, though raised by me, has made me forget what all I was supposed to write. Since it's the retreating monsoon season, I'll try to recollect some washed away memories, also try to make some sense.

Memory 1: August 2004, making paper boats with my cousins in the rain

     getting all wet on my way home from school, soaked the certificate I got in Independence day essay competition, got scolded later

basically being a kid

Memory 2: 06 August 2005, 06:20 PM

heavily clouded dusk, drizzling on the highway

I see my father attempting to stand up, holding the door of our crushed car, and falling down. I feel the need to spit, it is red, it is blood. I want to go home, but home is far. I envy all the local nurses who got to go home that evening.

The day we met the accident.

Memory 3: 4'o clock on a stormy evening, September 2017

Shut all doors and windows, ensured zero influence of the weather in the room filled with artificial light

Curled up in a warm blanket, watching Harry Potter  

Memory 4: Early monsoon showers, an evening of May 2019 

Returning to hostel with a bunch of friends

dark clouds covering the soon to set sun

 friends insist to stay outside a little longer, I resist, strongly

Fruitless resistance, I give up

made to sit on a bench while one of them held my hand

Sang songs until it was dark

Memory 5: 5 PM,11 October 2022

Sitting on the swing on my terrace

writing this as the nimbus clouds gather in the sky, seemingly above my head, enjoying the weather

Our perception of things exist only in our memories, and the good thing about memories is that we can always create new ones.

Hope this made some sense. If not then re-read the blog name.

Okay bye!