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One kind of rendezvous


There she had arrived again. Softly silently she has crept into my life and has laid her bags for the time being. As always I am suspicious and cynicism now my second nature asks her “why are you here “. “Why not” she answers and smiles. A smile which has the capacity to turn the chilliest days into an escapade on the sunny Hawaii and at the same time can make a merry tune sound like an overture of sad undertones. Sometimes it takes a shade of a happy go lucky blue, other times it shifts through various shades of red which take you from ecstasy to heart wrenching sadness. I think I have seen a stoic grey somewhere and rarely ever a colorless shade. Such is her simile.


She is the one who made me realize that life comes with no guarantees. It is best when left unpredictable and unchained by desires of the heart. It was through her, I now know that sometimes people come into our lives to serve some sort of purpose, teach us a lesson or help us figure out who we are or who we want to become. These people who remian unknown most of the time. In fact more often than not we even fail to realize the important part they play in our lives, but for her largely uninvited presence.


Every time she visits she leaves me with a new learning and her departure has me swearing that I would make each one of my days count. I grandiosely vow to appreciate everything I have now because tomorrow might be whole new ball game. This is because she takes me down a path I had once traveled, which has me reeling in heights of past joys in their glorious peek and the depths of the sorrows best forgotten. All this served at the same time makes a heady combination indeed. It is all so overwhelming that any sand castles I might have woven up in the air come crashing down and I stand in my plain simple self before reality. Usually by the time I get my senses in grip and look around for her she is gone leaving me with about a few dozen unanswered question. She chooses to leave as silently as she came. Sigh.


Some days when I am sitting alone muddled in questions, below the maple tree by my window I hear her waylaid windy whispers “You will have to seek the answers within your self my job is to only make you remember”


Yes she has a name; Memory.


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