Hitting the Memory Wall . . Hard

Over the past few days I have found myself being overwhelmed by memories I had never thought would have affected me. It all began when I moved around a shelf of my CDs. I found a CD that had been made for me by an ex-boyfriend of a recital he performed last year. I hadn't thought about this CD in ages, probably since around the time he gave it to me. When I put the CD on, all the memories from three months a year ago came flooding back to me. The pride I felt when I listened to him perform the recital, the peace that I felt so often in that relationship, the emptiness I felt when we parted ways. It suddenly hit me, all of it, every feeling I had thought I had left behind was there simply because of some music I found. It was more than a simple collections of memories. It was my own personal wall. And it hurt at some points.

Today I went to run some errands for my housemate and stopped to get lip balm. On a whim, I decided to get a flavor that I haven't used since I was 17. I think there may have been a few reasons for that. The memories that it brought back were more than enough to make me remember why I had stopped using it. They're not bad memories by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, many of them are some of the best memories I have of relationships. And I think the only other person who would remember this flavor would agree. When I licked my lips, the flavor and the texture took me back to a whirlwind of parties and excitement that became an integral part of my life for a few months in my last year of high school. It made me miss a part of my life that I hadn't thought I would miss. At one point it was easy for me to put aside and push away, as a long ago part of my past. It's hard to realize how something as small as a lip balm flavor can bring it all rushing back, so unbelievably quickly, even something I though was buried more deeply than it actually was.

There have been other memories that scents or tastes have brought back to me over the past week. The ones that haven't become part of my wall. The softer, more recent memories that seem to wrap around me more like a comfortable blanket than anything else. The smell of strawberry vanilla tea takes me back to a friends hose in Toronto, and almost makes me want to put on another sweater, as his house is so cold. These aren't so hard to hit. More relaxing than anything else. Perhaps these are my reward for hitting my own wall so hard this week. They soothe some of the sting that comes along with the sweet memories. These are my reward for hitting my wall. And maybe soon, with all these memories, it won't be so bad.