Happy memories remind me who I could have been; painful memories confirm who I am. If the guilt embedded in painful memories could be erased, the memories, too, would disappear. So, any lessons learned from that guilt and those unpleasant memories would dissolve, as well, leaving me unaware of my deepest and most damaging defects. As much as I might want to forget them, scars etched into my memories force me to acknowledge who I was—and who I am—and that I remain capable of behaviors that reveal the unforgivable side of me.
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It is right that he too should have his little chronicle, his memories, his reason, and be able to recognize the good in the bad, the bad in the worst, and so grow gently old down all the unchanging days, and die one day like any other day, only shorter.
~ Samuel Beckett ~
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I read an explanation of drowning that asserted a person can drown by inhaling as little as a quarter of a cup of water. On one hand, that fact—if, indeed, it is a fact—made me want to rely on intravenous injections to avoid dehydration. On the other, it made me think it wise to carry a quart of water with me at all times—in case of an emergency.
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The crows are silent this morning. They may have been silent for several mornings, but only this morning did the absence of their loud cackles register. It’s not just the crows, either. The smaller birds that hide behind thinning clusters of leaves as they flit from branch to branch seem to have disappeared, as well. How is it that I haven’t noticed before? Perhaps today is the first day the trees are empty. But that is only an uncertain observation; a possibility that cannot be verified, thanks to my inattention to the world around me. Except for having just now heard mi novia‘s voice, I could be the only person left on Earth; I know now there are at least two of us. Or just one…and a recording of her voice. Nothing can be confirmed with absolute certainty. We believe, but we cannot know. We think we understand, but we may be confusing truth with illusion. Still, there are no screeching crows. But, if they are here, I have grown deaf to their earsplitting mockery. And blind to their presence. It is entirely possible that they are all around me and I am the hallucination. I exist only in their minds. The birds are deranged and I am the delusion…complete with an imaginary mind of my own.
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I have delayed my shower and shave more than once in recent days. Today it MUST be done. If for no other reason than to save the oncology nurses from the stench of a dirty old man tomorrow morning. I could wait until the morning, of course, but the possibility that I could wake late might cause the poor healthcare team to be overcome with the odor of age and decay. Wait, readers might think I am writing the truth. No, I am prevaricating; no particular reason, other than a desire to mislead and cause confusion and near-chaos.
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There is no greater sorrow than to recall happiness in times of misery.
~ Dante Alighieri ~
