Buried Deep

Triggers.

Old songs. Old photos. Old stories.

Buried deep inside a forgotten corner.

Triggered, out they all come. Soaring and flowing. Caught in a memory breeze. Swirling colours. Spinning wild. Now they shoot right at me. Out of control. Like a hurricane.

Hurling themselves, speedy rapid memories.

Hurting me.

Gone are those days. Gone are the streets. Gone those small, cozy corners. That state of mind is dead.

Slow were the walks. Time was crawling. Sunny were the days. Waiting for someone at a designated place and time. Pre-tech era. No mobiles or texts or smart tech. Just spotting them at a distance, seeing that anxious waiting expression. Seeing that bright smile when they finally see you.

Feeling lost without a wrist watch because that was the most reliable time keeper. Proudly owning multiple watches, to go with various clothes. Branded, non-branded, cheap imitations, formal watches, casual ones and also dressy-dainty ones. Bought in branded stores and from street vendors. The full range.

Simple local restaurants. Not chains. Each with its own speciality menu items. Hidden spots in the city which only we locals knew. No tourists, no internet to reveal these secrets to tourists.

Ambitions were within reach in those times. We didn't ask for much. Debates used to be healthy. Friendships didn't break over political discussions. We used to have brains.

Hours spent in just passing time at favourite places - Archies, Planet M, Crossword - with their soft music adding to the afternoon lull. There was no hurry to pick something, pay for it and rush out. We could stay there forvever and buy just a couple of greeting cards without being judged.

Greeting cards! The joy of making them. Writing more personal notes on store-bought ones. Giving and receiving simple wishes in colourful envelopes. The amount of joy experienced in that small piece of paper cannot be expressed in words. Each of us still has kept these cards from ages ago.

Watching movies before the multiplexes arrived. Gallery, stalls, front row.

That time before rampant consumerism. That time when we used to just walk up to friend's or family's house and knock to visit. No need to call or text and ask if they were available. We all were always happy to receive unexpected guests. Especially when a random crow cawed at the window and someone visited that day. We just wanted validation that the old wives were right. The crow heralds arrival of guests.

A large part of me still lives there and wants to be in that time. There was so much more I could have lived. There were so many things I could have done. There were so many places I could have visited. Alas!

Will life ever be easy going again? Old days are spent and dead. But can we at least hope for a new age which could have simpler joys, grounded dreams, genuine smiles, lighter hearts...?

All I hope for is regaining my trust in another human, not having to be alert at all times, having a peaceful and wholesome life, living out the rest of my days with genuine happiness.