Time & Memory

Time keeps doing its thing, sometimes catching up with us, sometimes slipping sideways and eluding us. We mostly don’t pay any attention. Something in us wants to keep returning to the past and wondering if we could have done things differently might our lives have turned out for the better. But then, might they have turned out for the worse?

And there is where the statement, “If you do understand, things are such as they are. If you don’t understand, things are such as they are” comes in.

But we keep looking, don’t we? We keep reeling back through our memories and trying to figure out where we went wrong and where we went right and dwelling on all of the people and places and things that we would change if only we had the power. To go back in time. And we just don’t always have the control over what comes to the surface of our memory.

The more recent pains, mishaps, adventures gone askew taunt us and come unbidden with a frequency that takes our breath away and knocks us to our knees. And the losses. They especially creep in at odd moments to remind us of the empty spaces they left behind.

It is all about time. That elusive concept that some say does not even exist. As we move along through our every day and every night, time presses in on us and memory dims, dulls and erases. It just takes time. That is what everyone everywhere reminds us. And it is true.

Somewhere along the way we let go of what was and don’t even realize that we are no longer longing for one time or another. None of it is a fixed space anyway. Time is such a fluid animal.

Somewhere along the way we stop looking for the past to rise up and we just live.

About Karen Y. Hamilton

Walt Whitman says about his autobiography, Specimen Days “…At any rate I obey my happy hour’s command, which seems curiously imperative. May-be, if don’t do anything else, I shall send out the most wayward, spontaneous, fragmentary book ever printed.” This is what I feel at this juncture of my life, the need to gather together memories of my ancestors as well as my own memories into some semblance of order. Because all of those fragments, all of the fragments that make up any life, become stories. I am the mother of three sons, who affectionately (I hope!) call me 'gypsy mom' because I tend to wander around a bit soaking in the universe's wonders. I am currently working towards an MFA in Creative Writing at Florida Atlantic University. I have published essays with Heritage Press, Florida Living, and the St. Pauls Review. I am currently working on a book of poems about the Florida Everglades pioneers and a memoir about grief and the bonds of friendship. I live in my hometown, Jupiter, Florida and work as a freelance writer and curriculum specialist.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s