Friday, 2 March 2012
It's where you came from...
Sometimes I disconnect myself from my past. I don't think it's a healthy thing to do - you are the sum of your experiences, and your genes. Your past should be embraced, smiled over, come to terms with, or faced. But I can't help believe you shouldn't really ever forget it.
I disconnect, prosaically, because I am forgetful.
I think perhaps I'm so forgetful because when I left my old home behind, I left so many precious people behind, too. And not being rich, I perpetrated this crime where I split a family apart, and some of them will never see each other again, and some of them will never meet, and that, to me, is a little tragedy of family sized proportions.
See? It can be easier to forget.
Anyway, I was going through a rough time, feeling weak and lost and walked over when, one day, out of the blue, I heard this song. Maybe it could have been any song. The important thing is that it made me think of the place where I was born. And just like that, I reached back to my roots, remembered who I was, and where I came from. I felt the blood of the people who made me, and the backbones of the country I grew up in. I took those things, and I rebuilt myself, standing by the kitchen sink.
Funny the effect music can have on a person. It's in the story.