Sometimes I feel memories are as real as the moment I breathe this breath. They're as vivid as the purple light streaming through my dying window. They're as painful (or as joyful), like the rusty nail I stepped on when I was five.
I used to wish that some memories would be left alone. I didn't want to remember them, and they probably didn't like me much, either. They haunted me. I could not escape them, an endless hunt for a space without them dragging from my ankles like hungry children with big, dark eyes that would never be satiated.
But these days... all I seem to know is light, and love, and a peace that can't stay in my chest. I am home at last, home with the One I love. I am surrounded, encountered by memories every day that I hold in my heart, memories that I will recall for all of eternity. They stay in my heart, and I welcome them, make a place for them to sit. The memories of old pain are gone, somehow, in the light that they bring.
All I can see is the goodness of the days ahead, the richness of those gone by, and the sweetness of the present.
All is well, I think. You are here to stay.
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