My biggest fear is being forgotten. Abandoned. Not "belonging". My biggest fear is that once I'm gone, no one will ever remember me. My biggest fear is not mattering enough to even warrant a memory.
The "Happy" incident reminded me of something else, and I set about rooting through the boxes I've made for myself.
I call them "Memory" boxes. There are four of them now.
I have everything. Amusement park tickets, Bus ticket stubs, memorabilia from every trip we ever took as a family. I have every card, every letter I ever received. Even little notes passed in class. I have the sash I wore, and the tiara thingie, the "Lady of the Evening" award from our high school "Farewell" Party. And I have the (still plastic wrapped) gift from the first McDonald's Happy Meal I ever had, when I was six or seven years old.
But that's not the interesting thing. What's interesting is that there are post-it notes (or little bits of paper) stuck on and around most of these things I've collected. Penciled onto them are comments like "Meenah wore this..*blah blah*...on..*date*", or "...gifted this to Meenah Tariq on...". These are mostly on the stuff that dates to when I was around thirteen, and before that.
I seem to remember reading somewhere about "Time Capsules", around that time. What you do is, you put stuff that matters to you, with notes explaining, and dates, into a non-perishable container. You then bury it in your garden. And you wait for someone, some day, decades hence, finding it, and being awed by the person you were.
I think that's where it started. I didn't bury my memories in the garden. But some one, some day, when I'm gone, will go through my boxes. And from "My Memories", they will become "Memories of Me".
The "Happy" incident reminded me of something else, and I set about rooting through the boxes I've made for myself.
I call them "Memory" boxes. There are four of them now.
I have everything. Amusement park tickets, Bus ticket stubs, memorabilia from every trip we ever took as a family. I have every card, every letter I ever received. Even little notes passed in class. I have the sash I wore, and the tiara thingie, the "Lady of the Evening" award from our high school "Farewell" Party. And I have the (still plastic wrapped) gift from the first McDonald's Happy Meal I ever had, when I was six or seven years old.
But that's not the interesting thing. What's interesting is that there are post-it notes (or little bits of paper) stuck on and around most of these things I've collected. Penciled onto them are comments like "Meenah wore this..*blah blah*...on..*date*", or "...gifted this to Meenah Tariq on...". These are mostly on the stuff that dates to when I was around thirteen, and before that.
I seem to remember reading somewhere about "Time Capsules", around that time. What you do is, you put stuff that matters to you, with notes explaining, and dates, into a non-perishable container. You then bury it in your garden. And you wait for someone, some day, decades hence, finding it, and being awed by the person you were.
I think that's where it started. I didn't bury my memories in the garden. But some one, some day, when I'm gone, will go through my boxes. And from "My Memories", they will become "Memories of Me".
2 comments:
Yea "time capsules" are something like that... If you ever watched One tree hill... Theres a whole episode based on time capsules...
Btw i like the idea of you keeping your boxes.. But some good memories are too painful to keep...
Never seen "One Tree Hill", but anything fanciful and un-practical always appealed to me =D
My boxes gather dust and take up space. But who knows, some one may find them interesting some day.
"...some good memories are too painful to keep..." Is why I don't rifle through them too often. =]
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