In my last post, I said there is no remedy for memory. For better or worse, they come when you least expect it. Triggers can be as small as a smell of laundry, a familiar face, or a catch phrase.
I hear Mayer Hawthorne and am immediately taken back to a foggy day in Golden Gate Park with my girls aka The Best Saturday, Ever. I see a peony and remember a friend. I hear Stevie Wonder and muscle memory takes over. These are the triggers I love. The excited, the ecstatic, the longing. The “Damn That Was Fun” to the “I almost forgot about that” to “Can we do that again?” triggers. The small things that recall the joy of that one moment, the ecstasy of the next. Y’all remember that shit?
There are other kinds.
I also see one friend and remember a stranger. I meet someone with the same first name as her and cringe inside. I step inside a home and cannot stand to be there. I hate these triggers. Things that trigger sad, mad, and confused. The small things that invoke the pain like a fresh cut and to your surprise, it still bleeds like that first day. Yeah. I remember that shit.
How do I get these same triggers – her voice, that name, your song – to trigger happy?
Because I want to walk down that street without anxiety. And I want to remember that day without getting angry. And I want to look at you and not get sad.
I can come up with a number of cliche phrases that will suffice here.
“Time heals all”
“Forgive and forget”
Blah blah blah blah blah.
Thing is, I have very little time, and a very long memory.
Perhaps its time for a little bit of change… A little bit of transference from one mindset to the next. Maybe to try and take those triggers and create new memories on that street, with that stranger, dancing to your song. I think I know what I have to do, I’ve just gotta pull the trigger.