What do your memories mean to you? Do you think about past events from your childhood and notice how they’ve impacted you? For me, memory means more than just a simple escape from your reality. Memory shows me how much I’ve grown as a person from my past. Memory reminds me that I’ve lived. That’s the most beautiful thing in the world, to have lived and to be able to remanence on living. When I think back to the many childhood memories I have, there is one in particular that seems to never fade.
I remember being about the age of 7, my Uncle had just passed away. My family and I had to drive to Florida for the funeral. I specifically remember the morning of the funeral. Our hotel room was quiet, the smell of cleaners and air fresheners filled our room. I could hear people in the halls joyfully going about their day. It hit me that they had no idea what was going on in the lives of the people in all of these rooms, and we had no idea what was going on in theirs.
As my entire family took the elevator three floors down to the lobby dressed in our nicest clothing, I could feel the tensi.
