When I try to contemplate my college days, I always have this feeling that I was a goody all time.
I remember when I was in my first year, I was excited, and determined to get my bachelor’s in English as soon as possible and not to repeat a single year. I was twenty years old, and just happy that I finished my high school. Happy that I was stretching out, leaving a little village where I was known by my grandfather’s good reputation as a farmer and a stand-up man, leaving a town where I had made some friends and insulted some others, where one time, I interrupted my teacher’s long boring lecture, took a chalk from his table and wrote “one hour talk” on the board. I almost get expelled and everyone was laughing at my craziness, or that time where my friend and I spent a night making a big flag for the march we agreed to make the day after.
I am repeatedly reminded that I didn’t live my college days as I was supposed to live them, always carrying this hint of regret that I had missed a lot of opportunities back then.
Our weekly free-write is back: take ten minutes — no pauses! — to write about anything, unfiltered and unedited. You can then publish the post as-is, or edit a bit first — your call.
How much are we attached to our memories? the strong memories that stay attached to the small pieces of our minds, the memories that we remember with no remorse,no regret or any felling of guilt. it’s the uplifting joy , the recollection of the good times.
To let someone take a glimpse of the memory that you once had is sometimes hard , and the hardest part is that we fear to ruin the rawness of that memory. At least this what I think about the intimate raw recollections that we keep to ourselves. I hope that I will find among your dear readers who share such a thought ? And, a friend the other time has given me the opportunity to take a journey into his mind, into his serendipity that had occurred once, and that he wishes that may occur again, for life is Elusive and full of surprise. I am not disposed to tell you what my friend’s story or memory was about. However, I will say that sometimes we meet someone by chance or coincidence and then he disappear also by chance or coincidence.
It is this idea which plants itself inside this stories from our memories that tell us ! you may live another day to see this person.