My Hallway of Memories

I have a work room upstairs where I write, paint, dream and store tidbits of memories from my life. Cleaning the room is like walking down a hallway of memories.

I’m 54 years old and there are decades of little tidbits I’ve collected. And since I’ve been a writer my whole life, there are many little notes, poems, journals and diaries from the various divisions of my life.

I’m sure each of us feels the same way, that our lives are divided into distinct sections. There are usually pretty clear dividers to show the beginning and ending of each period in our life.

I probably have more personal notes and memories of my life than most since I’ve been trying to write my autobiography for about 20 years. Somehow I just never get very far on it.

But, looking back is like looking down a hallway of memories. Each room off this hallway is a separate section of my life. And when I clean and sort this room, I stumble into each room for a little while.

It’s not like I find thing I never knew I had. I just rediscover them. Today I came across a Christmas book my mother put together a few years ago for each of her children. At the time, I didn’t want anything to do with the book. My relationship with her was very strained and I didn’t want anything from her.

This will be my 2^nd Christmas since she’s passed on. The bitterness has lessened considerably and the book was a welcomed sight and a precious memory.

I opened a small notebook that I had used as a journal during a painful separation from a special friend. The emotion behind those words is still just as strong and raw as it was at the time. My heart twisted again reading through those old feelings.

There were half-used notebooks I had used for various interests I had been working on. One notebook was dedicated to working on my self-esteem. Another I had used for lessons on grammar and punctuation.

Paging through these old notes and books is very much like tiptoeing down a hallway of memories. Some of the memories I am glad to awaken again. Others I would rather have left sleeping in the dark.

Along with the notebooks I have a large number of random notes. Some contain just an email address or a name and a phone number. On some of them I wrote down idea that spontaneously popped into my head that I wanted to write about. I toss these notes into a drawer until the next cleaning day when it’s time to do something with them.

Walking down this hallway of memories can be painful. I found an old address book from almost fifteen years ago in that drawer. So many names of people who are no longer with us were there just waiting for me to pick up the phone and dial their number. Many of the phone numbers and addresses were outdated since people have moved or changed numbers. Names of people I would rather not remember sat in there taunting me by their very existence.

I took the time to do something with the little notes. Email addresses and phone numbers went into my book of contacts. Writing ideas were copied into a notebook I keep for just that purpose.

As usual, there were some notes I still didn’t know what to do with. I didn’t want to throw them away yet, but I wasn’t sure where they fit in my organization. Those were returned to the drawer until the next time I walk down this hallway.

Sorting through memories leaves me in a melancholic, thoughtful mood. There are a lot of “what if”, “if only” and “where are they now?” thoughts that come racing to my mind. Years have passed since some of these people and things were pertinent to my life.

After the room is clean and everything is resorted and moved to where I want it, there is a new energy to move forward. It seems like I need this walk every once in a while to shake off the remnants of the past and grow into who I need to become.

As humans we are always changing, evolving into someone new. To grow, we need to leave the past behind us and embrace the mysteries of the future ahead of us.

The longer we hold onto the things, people and pains of the past, the longer it will take for us to become the new mature person we are meant to become.