Memories

I was asked the other day if I remember my Mum.

Something I guess I don’t really think about, but honestly, I don’t. Is that weird?

I wouldn’t even say that I know my mum. Everything I know is from what people tell me and if it’s not that, it’s pictures.

Pictures told me that my mum loved to travel, that she was adventurous and loved to be outdoors. Pictures told me that for most of her life, my mum had short hair, but had braids at least once. Pictures confirmed just how much I look like her, how we smile exactly the same. Pictures showed me how happy she was when I was born. My own memory though? Barely remembers a thing.

I guess I tried my best to forget, and it worked. For years, knowing that she would never see any of my big milestones always made me upset. Even now to be honest. I mean, she didn’t even get to see me finish primary school, much less Secondary, College, Uni. Lol. The list is actually stupid long.

Oddly enough though, for all these major milestones, I don’t think I ever really recognised that she wasn’t there. Maybe this is down to me basically conditioning my mind to live like she wasn’t. Whatever it is, I never really feel that gap until I actively think about it.

I guess in the same way, me being asked if I remember my mum made me realise that I actually don’t.

Apart from those one and two memories, I don’t remember my own Mother. Mad.

Maybe that’s one of the reasons why I prefer pictures. I can capture the moments and make them last as long as I want.

I can actually make the memories last forever.