I caught a glimpse of you from a distance, and that was enough to poke holes into my soul and out, like water, seeped all the memories I had tried so hard to keep buried inside.
The memories oozed onto the ground, and trailed behind me, following me around like a snail trail.
I walked back to my car and I see all the holes, the holes in my soul. And I see how big they really are. I peer into a hole, out of curiosity. And I see one memory that had not been poured out of me. I reach inside and I grab it, marveling at the foreignness and familiarity of it.
I drop it on the ground, not thinking much of it. I’m driving home and suddenly, I see Nostalgia sitting in the passenger seat. He’s holding up the memory I threw out, the memory I had chosen to forget. I look at the road and back at him. I look at the road and back at him again. I finally come up to a red light and I look at him, studying him more closely.
The memory he held up, it was supposed to be a lost memory. A lost memory as in the ones you remember only when you’re alone at home, in bed, at 1 o’clock in the morning, not in the brightness of an afternoon sunshine. Yet there Nostalgia was, holding up that memory, and I definitely was not alone at home, in bed, at 1 o’clock in the morning. It was actually 3 o’clock in the afternoon and I was going home after seeing a past lover in the midst of a crowd, whose taking a glance upon poked the holes into my soul which led to me probing the supposed-to-be lost memory which led me to this moment, Nostalgia holding up that token of reminiscence.
I buried that memory so deep. I didn’t want to remember it. I buried it so deep that I had forgotten where I put it. And I was glad. I was glad that I couldn’t find it anymore. It was lost, at last. But then Nostalgia uprooted it from where it was hidden into the broad daylight.
It just comes to show that, lost things always have their way of being found again, whether we like it or not.