my invented memories

So arbitrary the way the memories come and assault us. Pictures that we have somehow changed with the time, strange decorations we have added, and with all the new embellishments we paint this canvas and give ourselves new revised versions of our pasts.

My invented memories, the ones that I rescue from the original story, I decorate them with purples and reds, yellows and whites.

I have lived half of my life in exile adapting to the place I chose to stay and now my memories of the beginning are starting to fade, or maybe I just decided to change them. People, places, names, events we change, sometimes a little, sometimes a lot, I suppose it happens all the time but we only notice more this changes when we listen others retell the same stories but with different endings, or names escape our mind, or we simply have completely forgotten something.

I play with my invented memories, I make them mine.

Today is a good day to sit down and visit them with my children, well not anymore children, my adult extensions, extensions of myself and my husband. We laugh, we cry together, we exchange glances that hold so many secrets we never told each other, and we grow closer, little by little, because that is the way the circle of life works when we have the chance to be back together. Even if is just for a moment.