All of a sudden a wave of nostalgia hits me, and from top-to-toe memories from the secondary school days resound. Like a washed-out film playing from afar, looking at the past from a third person perspective, from a bird's eye view sometimes. I wonder if as days pass, the memories get less distinct, more vague. Less familiar, more precious.
I could squeeze my eyes shut and try to replay them and most of the times I succeed; the feelings come back, the surroundings turn familiar. What wonderful elusive objects memories are. How intangible that they are unable to be kept in a box, how precious that you would want to etch it in your head, and your heart to bring along with on your journey.
Occasionally I stumble across real tangible evidence of things that happened. Some things need closure, some were beautiful times frozen in photographs. But my heart softly (real softly) goes "Oh!" with pleasure and delight because I'm thankful for all that has happened along the way, that has shaped and taught me, loved and kept me safe (and sane).
And I keep that all, I keep them all with me.
