The Anatomy of a Memory (By Samantha Davis)

I so long for the moments stuck in the future – the moments of certainty, in which I can say the present explains the past.

I anxiously await the moments in which I truly feel alive. Those moments when I can think back to the day or days I daydreamed about it – wondering what it would be like, how it would feel, how long it would last – and celebrate the fact that the real moment was better than I ever could have imagined. Because certainly, reality is better than daydreams.

I don’t want to find myself caught up in clouds of folly, but I am human; how am I not to dream of things – things I long for, have hoped for my whole life?

Who put this foolish idea in my head that doing so was wrong and frivolous? I am allowed to enjoy my sweets in their totality.

Surely dreaming has more purpose than just delight.

I do not intend for my dreams to become delusions. My feet remain firmly planted in reality, no matter how often I allow myself to indulge in piecing together the clouds of mystery that lie before me.

They are sweet to the taste – like cotton candy. As soon as I devour a bite, it dissolves in my mouth. It is still sweet, but not as sweet as the moment I tasted it.

The same goes for before – eyeing the candy can only give one so much pleasure. It is the actual tasting that brings true joy.

How often do we lose ourselves in building up HOW it should taste, how it should feel in our mouths, between our cheeks, on our tongues? What it will smell like, look like, sound like when we chew it up and swallow it after mashing up every little piece? The truth is that experience is the only teacher.

Reliving those experiences, as if watching a movie replay, can be so delicious. It begs desire for another, and yet another. The mashing creates a need for more to chew.

The mashing, in all honesty… that’s my favorite part. It is not, in fact, a destruction, but rather an appreciation for the candy. Enjoying every delicious moment – even bringing to light those I might have overlooked before while experiencing it – that’s the good stuff. I can sit back, music narrating the memory, close my eyes, and let it sink into my taste buds, the sugar coating my tongue.

I long to hold onto that taste forever, but I know that that would void the moment of its value. So I must let it go and long for new ones to enter between my lips.filepicker-kTsiEU6jQLaFM00Triuq_cotton_candy

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