An Album

Looking through old possessions, a nostalgic experience for all. The knickknacks covered in dust, those items we cherish, to discard, to shed, is heartbreaking . The broken chairs from the first dining set, the warped wooden sofa with its unsightly cushions, the chipped dressing table, the cracked mirror, the sewing machine from another age, all remnants of a life gone by. Like mammoths they stand, carrying many tales, stored in various nook and corner.

The radiogram, once our pride, now just a stumbling block, the LPs that played our favourite songs, sitting forlornly in their sleeve. The cross stitch and embroidery, my first needle work, the head scarf,and pink stilettos, the bright beads, and rhinestones, the bric-à-brac of a youth gone by, waiting to be uncovered. The books we read, now moth eaten, the well thumbed journals filled with stories, the fountain pen that wrote our history , all pressed into a dusty old box, never to see the light of day.

Lying at the bottom, was the family album, decades old and forgotten. There it was beckoning, almost clamouring to be picked up, to be opened. And out popped faces that were unrecognisable, from an age gone by.. Some of children now grown old, some less fortunate as they are no more and time you could say, was harsh to them left behind.

Each page revealing various occasions, whispering of happier days, some clear as yesterday, some waiting to be remembered. The pictures, though black and white , exuded the colours of joy, nudging from the deep recess of the mind, a forgotten time. Pictures of little children standing together, playing together, their innocent faces sure of staying together, their lips swearing undying love for one another, a love that didn’t stand the test of time .

Life had different plans ! Some were lost along the way, some just drifted away and with others, there exists a chasm of differences, an unbridgeable divide. Yet our lives remain intertwined, linked by our shared parentage.. Each picture parading before my eyes, brought a sense of timelessness. A memory captured in a moment, locked in a frame for a lifetime. Some can still make me smile, some can even make me cry, while yet others bring a wave of bittersweet emotions.

So it is this birthday, I look with longing and regret, at the memorabilia of the past. I survey with a heavy heart, that which needs to be cast away, that which is so dear, that which still echoes in the present . To let go these relics that formed my life afore and define me, is a disaster, for they hold much sentiments, but to hold on, a crushing burden for the next generation, a millstone around their neck .

Like the grains of wood, formed with the passage of time, so my indelible past has left its mark within. Do I then need possessions to remind me from whence I come? The memories of another time, like unsung melodies, will always float, not far beneath my awareness, ready to be retrieved, to be relived, when I am lost and lonely. And yet with great sadness, I prepare to dispose the clutter of a lifetime.

But cast them away I must, my life’s album, though reluctantly, to make way for the new,. And I know the legacy I leave behind, is not the sticks and stones, not the valuables but the values ! The lives I touched, the words I spoke, the tears I wiped , the cheer I shared and the loving kindness I spread, are all that will be recorded for posterity, to be retold even after my time .