Forgotten Conversations
I had been thinking about this piece since Monday. This title was turning over and over again in my brain; I ended up writing it for Three Word Wednesday, since this week’s words, “million”, “time”, and “unnoticed”, lent themselves well to my churning thoughts. Enjoy.
-Nicole
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A million voices have weaved themselves together. They lie as chaotic tapestry, matted hair, within the recesses of my brain. I can no longer distinguish who said what and when, but unlike erased and empty chalkboards which bare nothing but black blankness, my mind holds on to ghost strand memories. I see the placeholders of words, but only as faint outlines containing invisible space.
With time, they grow even fainter. When I was twenty-five, it was who and when that I could still recall, but the what had begun to fade out of the middle of its still frame memory. Now at thirty-two, the when is a slowly eroding shoreline giving way to forgetful waters. I fear that someday, the sum total of what is left of my mental substance, my acuity, and even the substance of who I am, will drown in these waters as more of these memories disappear and die.
Yet each day, one more letter, one more word, one more sentiment, slips away into the abyss, unnoticed. It is only when I go back to retrieve the memory that I notice what is missing. It is then I see jigsaw puzzles of faces, places, things said to me, and things I said staring back, but incomplete with jarring, empty holes in each puzzle…and I can no longer find the missing pieces. I want to dive my desperate fingers under divine couch cushions and coffee tables to find them.
But I know that permanence is a pathetic myth, and transience is closer to the biggest truth engulfing our Universe – and that truth is that we are always dying. The words told to me in love, anger, and sorrow will eventually die too as I cross the thresholds of decades. One day, all I will have left are the outlines of faces.
Written 8/6/08
© 2008. Nicole Nicholson. All Rights Reserved.
Yet each day, one more letter, one more word, one more sentiment, slips away into the abyss, unnoticed. It is only when I go back to retrieve the memory that I notice what is missing.
This is sad, but so well written. Really makes me think about my own reactions to memories slipping away, slowly out of my hands.
I like the way you build to the jigsaw image. When you finally lay it out, it is clear in my imagination. Although I think the sentence structure here and there gets a little difficult, the writing is lyrical and quite poetic. And of course the message is all too real. You described the moment quite well–that moment when we notice our memories are not quite performing as we hope they will. Nice job.
“my mind holds on to ghost strand memories.”
I really loved this piece! Lately my lack of memory is so frightening and I feel you wrote this straight from my fears
excellent job!
An excellent, thoughtful piece. My long term memory remains very good, but my short term memory keeps forgetting where it is.
lovely. i can really relate to this.
nicole, it is an enjoyable journey through the sparks of your thoughts… hey, at 55 im still holdin on to bits and pieces.. you spoke so well of days slipping by…
I have not forgotten everyone, I have been reading your comments, I have just been really busy….thank you for dropping by and leaving your thoughts.
I just turned thirty-two Thursday. I feel the memory loss creeping in and I’ve lost small chunks of my life in memory. Mostly conversations.
-Nicole