You cannot avoid talking about the past during reunions. According to my ditse, she couldn’t believe I remember so many details. I get this reaction all the time. Some probably think I am making them up, but I don’t.

Some of my memories go back to when I was as young as three I think.

That early memory is of my Tatay chasing me around our dinner table, an office table from NIA and our only piece of “furniture”. I thought it was a game, but I apparently made him furious, he was after me to give me a good spanking. I remember jumping to Nanay’s lap and trying to hide under skirts.

I love my memories. These are my only companions when I feel alone and isolated from the rest of the world. I tell and retell them to myself, trying to describe everything as it was when they happened. The scene, the atmosphere, my feelings, my reactions and if I could, how others reacted.

I re-live each moment and sometimes I can still feel the emotion I felt at the time.

The captive audience would often comment I tell the stories very well. That I lived a very interesting life. A close friend in Uni once said she wished her life was as colourful as mine.

But I don’t see my life experiences as special or unique. They are certainly special to me, however I do not tell them to impress or boast or look for pity.

I tell them because it makes me feel alive.

It’s always been in my nature since I can remember, to always “review” my life. Perhaps that comes with being emotional (read: nuts).

Last year, I’ve resolved to start writing these down. Because I do fear losing them. Like the way I lost my passion for poetry.

So that’s a warning, you’ll re-live these with me.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, February 25th, 2009 at 6:41 pm and is filed under past, personality. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.