Memories of Gone Days

What do you do with past times? How do you hold onto memories that overflow from the cup of life? That come out in moments when you least expect them.

Days of laughter and childhood bliss. Runs through fields, wading in creeks, sitting on top of hills and singing in the falling dusk, gallops on horses, dinners of joking with brothers and sisters, reading books on long front porches... I remember with a smile, but it feels like a lost life.

I see his smile, the bright blue eyes, the childhood innocence, and the way he made you laugh. Little brothers now turned into men, foreboding strangers who I can barely recognize and whose lives are separate from mine.

Goodbyes unspoken, no last touch or even eye contact. Nights of tears and sorrow, dreams dying, and grief overflowing. At nights when I am trying to sleep my dreams are haunted by faces I have never said goodbye too, memories of them rising and falling.

Pen in hand I write. And write. Does healing come with letting my life be penned onto paper?