Write about: going back.
I always struggle to come up with the first writing prompt after a theme week has concluded. This was no different, though it did help that my brother-in-law Jake lent me Stephen King's 11/22/63 a few days ago.
We had a very nice Christmas in Calgary, with lots of snow and pleasant temperatures outside. Indoors featured fun family moments and a surprisingly (relatively) healthy Max. We're all hoping his improvement stays on its current track and that his cold will be left behind long before we board our plane for home on Saturday morning.
Today we went out to visit a classmate of Kat's from her online counseling course, before going bowling this afternoon with my family. It was just Jake, Kat, my dad, and myself bowling, while my sister and mom watched Max.
That was definitely a two person job.
There are moments in the past that linger long past the time that they are welcome to do so. Not content to remain part of our history, they reappear at random. While we wait in line at the grocery store. During lulls in telephone conversations. At night, in our dreams.
So often in our dreams.
We all have them. None of us are immune.
Yet so rarely are these moments brought into the light, dissected, shared. Are we ashamed of them? Or do we just fear them and the mystical hold they have on us? A little of both, perhaps.
No matter the reasons, no matter the exact details of a haunting moment, they follow us like shadows. But these shadows have weight. They are heavy, and they seem to only grow heavier with the passage of time. We drag them here and there, allowing them to slow our steps.
They are tiresome, these moments that refuse to live in the past. That insist on invading our present. I have had enough of mine. I will not carry this burden another day.
It is time for me to go back, find my moment in the fog of memory and emotions. Confront it in the past where it was born, and leave it there forever.