Yesterday, I went to grandma's place. Mom told me to stop talking because whenever I talk, grandma starts crying. I was puzzled. Really puzzled. Apparently, my voice triggers her memory of home, so she started to cry. That was a little heart-wrenching.
I feel for grandma. I tried to think of how memory work. It's so blurred, yet it is still there. I miss the things that happened in my memory a lot. Sometimes, I wondered if it all actually happened. Maybe I imagined it all. Or maybe I mistaken it for a dream.
Then, I tried to be grateful. Rather than feeling lost for not being able to relive my memory, I enjoy and treasure every new memory, no matter how short-living it is. Yes, I still have those impulsive thoughts to want to do more, but I am able to control them a little better.
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