These Are My Memories

I got home from my grandmother's house. Tired, I emptied the contents of my pocket unto the bedside table. My eyes caught a selection of wallet sized photos on the table.

Thinking of what my friend had said previously, I picked them up and looked through them, and am reminded of the happy moments the photos triggered, stolen though they are.

I put them back in my wallet, turned off the light, and fell into bed.

*Written on March 23rd.
*Read Strings of Attachment.


KL said…
How are you doing? I hope everything is fine with you and your family and grandmother. I think it's good to have memories and pictures of your loved ones close to you. If you don't have all these, then what is the meaning and purpose of this life, what's the use of achieving anything, whom are you going to turn to in your time of happiness, despair, anger, sad? I think all these give sense and meaning to our lives and we become what we are because of all these. Unless and until one learn to become a saint or a Buddha, it's good to clutch to the memories.
Fikri said…
Thanks KL :> Yeah, my family is doing better now. And I agree about the memories. They make us into the people we are, both good and bad, and so I decide to hang on to them, at least for now, and hopefully for much longer. There are things that I'd rather forget, but at the end of the day, the pix are now all over my wall here in Korea :>