Memories In Ink

Good days, cherished memories, how we ache for them to come back and envelope us in their warmth. Take us away from this reality and hide us in a place where nothing but goodness can touch us. How we hope against hope for a time to come when we would just love being so full of life, only to soak everything around us. But, it does come. But when such a time comes, we are so busy blushing the entire time, that we forget that it was right here. It passes by like an evanescent, blinding flash of unreal reality – unreal because later, tears make their way through our solid bearing, wondering about how lovely those days were and start questioning if they were ever there.

Everything that a man yearns for, deeply yearns for, is that fuzzy intoxicating feeling of happiness. Even the ones who are ostensibly content with their ‘rocking’ lives long for this ultimate feeling of bliss. I think that this feeling can never touch us when we want it to or when it should. Because we realize what we’ve got only after its gone. And it does go. It does. Then, when we think about those moments of joy; these thoughts are the ones which lead us into a deluge of rapture and plain, innocent happiness. Memories- the only thing that stays back with us when all else has withered away, the only thing that we can cling on to, the only thing we wish so hard would materialize in the future.But when it does, and yes it does, we just don’t notice it.