Nostalgia in a teacup

It's Sunday, another day of stay home, studying day. The heat was unbearabe for her, she directed the fan straight at her face. She opened all the windows and even gulped down glass after glass of ice cold water. It wasn't to any avail, the heat was getting to her.

She sat silently at her PC, typing page after page of her homework, with no concern for anything else other than pressing matters on her head. And then, the message bearing "You have received 1 new email" popped out at the bottom right hand of the screen. She opened it.

It was an email on the updates of her Primary 6 class. She never bothered opening any of them, she hardly had any concern for emails until recently when she began frequently reading and sending mails.

It was a link to her Primary 6 teacher's email to her ex-classmate on how she's doing. As she read, the song on repeat played and replayed and coaxed all emotions and tears out of her.

What exactly has she been doing?

Has she been to caught up on forwarding her life to somewhere she felt truly free and comfortable or has she just been erasing traces of past as she went along? Definitely not the latter, she thought. She still had all her memories kept, well preserved and always there whenever she needed a bit of comfort.

The memories were there to comfort her her life wasn't always in a rush. She had good times, she sure did. She kept those memories close and protected and never would she let them go. Amnesia was what she feared as she grew older.

So what was it that happened? Were memories not enough? Were fond recalls of the past not enough? She didn't contact many of her ex-classmates. Was it really that the class didn't keep in touch anymore? Or was it just that she didn't make an effort to? Was the fast paced life she had the demise of the bonds that were once strong?

Or was she just too caught up with the chase of time.

She felt trapped, like a tape on constant forward. She remembered the past, but she didn't remember to keep in touch. That was it, she thought. She finally confessed.

She felt guilty, felt like she should have done something more to preserve not only memories, but the bonds. She can't just have memories to remember them by. She needed something less subtle, more of something to grasp, something real and solid.

Some people have their lives on a replay; doing the same thing exactly day after day after day. Some people want it more exciting, and put their lives on Shuffle, not knowing what comes next. Some people's life is on a constant forward, only pausing when it comes to a song they like, skipping all the bad parts. Some just don't have a tune to their life at all.

Such is life, she mused. And she pushed all these thoughts to the very back of her head and continued typing her assignments.