This morning (Sunday, Dec. 11), I awoke naturally; at 6 AM (PST) and decided to use this extra time to get a jumpstart on some writing. As I am also trying a new fasting technique that delays my first meal of the day by a few hours, I decided to also abstain from my usual immediate coffee consumption. So I sat there in a half-awake daze trying to focus on my thoughts.
But as the words stalled within my mind, I realized that I may not be able to write until I ate or showered (my usual methods to become alert, otherwise I’m notorious for falling back asleep), so I finished a movie that I had started the night before for my #52Pick-Up series, and at that precise moment, a wave of nostalgia crashed over me. I had a fond memory of me doing exactly this before, getting up early to watch a movie when I couldn’t sleep thirteen years ago in the hospital.
I had a ritual for a good month or so; I’d fall asleep around ten, then awake up anywhere from five AM to six AM, and I’d go to the floor’s kitchen and I’d mix myself a large hospital-branded glass of chocolate milk, and watch something on my DVD player. This act in turn reminded me of a similar moment of my childhood when I would get up early as a kid, when my parents were together, and I’d actually get up earlier than when my Dad left (usually by six).
Now, surely didn’t happen that often then (I’m a life-long heavy sleeper), but I think fondly of those times, but then get sad that my memory is also intrinsically tied with watching a television show in syndication that “I’d never got to see,” instead of getting to spend extra time with my parents. Television had always been a part of my life, and now, looking back on these moments while ostensibly forcing myself to get through a film that I enjoy (for creative purposes) is an odd feeling.
I’m thankful for any memory that sticks with me over the years, as my memory isn’t the greatest, but I’m also saddened by those memories’ affiliations. If only I yearned for more knowledge via communication with my parents or books instead of an illuminated LCD screen, then maybe I would have been further along in my writing skills. But alas, these are my memories, I will hold onto them fondly because in my mind they mean something to me, and no one shall remove them from my synapses. At least I hope.
Look to better yourselves, and allow those lingering memories to thrive with interactions with the ones you love, not just the things that you enjoy.