This post reminds me that tomorrow starts Advent

“Mem­o­ries are strange things. You don’t quite know where they come from — or why a par­tic­u­lar one is more pow­er­ful than another. They pop up unbid­den — some sub­con­scious trig­ger, a smell, a sound, an event causes them to come to the fore­front of your mind and take over your brain and emotions.

Mem­o­ries, once ingrained, are impos­si­ble to rid your­self of, good or bad. You don’t get to choose which ones fault in, and you don’t get to choose which ones are the most pow­er­ful one attached to a trigger.

Some­times, no mat­ter how much you try, no mat­ter how many new mem­o­ries you try to make to replace, or sub­sume a given one — one mem­ory will always stick. It can be good — or it can be bad. You don’t get to choose. When that mem­ory is a bad one, it doesn’t mat­ter how much you stack on top of it, no mat­ter how much you try to for­get — when it comes to the fore­front, that is what you see, what you feel.

We don’t get to con­trol it. All we can do is try to forge new ones and hope that they are more pow­er­ful, more per­ti­nent and more filled with love and hope than every­thing that came before it, so that even if the mem­ory that comes up is a bad one — a hor­ri­ble one — there’s some­thing warm, lov­ing and car­ing to fall back on and hold on to when we lay awake at night star­ing at the ceil­ing trapped in throes of the past.”

And so begins “A Boys Story” Read the rest at: A Christmas Story


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: