Hope II
Gustav Klimt, 1907 – 08.
There are certain moments that bring a smile on my face whenever I drift back down my memory lane.
They are intimate, and uniquely mine, despite the fact that I did share some of those instances with others – ranging from the people I love to the ones who are and will always stay in the past to mere strangers who I may never encounter in my life again.
Sometimes I want to look at the same event through the lenses of others. I wonder what I would see – optimistically, maybe a different perspective of beauty? This is why I love asking people to recount our mutual memories whenever I can, so I can sneak a tiny glimpse.
I want to know that the identical experience brought a smile on their faces. It adds an additional, thin layer of rose-tinted hue to my (occasionally already) glowing memory.
This makes me smile. Perhaps stupidly, but I don’t care.
I’ve never really felt entirely comfortable smiling, most likely out of personal insecurity. I do make an exception for precious moments like these.
Looking back from the present, the past always seem to pass by in a rush (even the tedious and painful parts!), and the future seem to not come by fast enough. I’d like to address the present in this post though; for some reason I feel quite bubbly in a comfortable but rare manner right now. I’m surrounded by snippets of unrelated yet pleasing memories.
A part of my heart usually has these times stashed and locked away, but today I seem to go down the prettier parts of memory lane.
Maybe it’s going to be a good day.
