The Gift of Memory 💕

A parakeet amongst the Croton plant 😁
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A thoughtful gift by a friend brings back a memory of the time when a parrot walked into our home with an injured wing.

We nursed it to health, my mom and I. It made our Croton plant its home and as it got better it started chirping from somewhere within the colorful foliage in our living room 😊. It was a delightful song he sang and a blessed sight to spot it, content amongst the giant Croton plant.

Then one day, when he was healthy enough, he took wing, taking a bit of our heart with it and leaving behind a residue of chillies and fruits inside the pot that was his home for some months. 😁

Hope you lived a good life visitor bird. And remembered us with the same fondness, as we do you … ❣️

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The Pressed Rose

Remember the joy of coming across a forgotten pressed Rose? A first Valentine memory or a beauty that one wanted to always remember….So one found a book of poetry or whatever it is that one was reading at that time and placed it between the pages and shut the book gently…
And there it lay, a pressed rose, exuding its fragrance and coaxing it into the aging pages of your cherished book, till one day, years later, you chance upon it once again and you drop everything to just sit and reminisce about that small yet beautiful moment in life…

One that came back on the delicate wings of a pressed rose.

  

Two Wedding Bands… A story from Reader’s Digest

I have worn two wedding bands for more than a dozen years. The rings seldom get noticed, but when I am asked about them, I respond, “I have two wives,” an answer that is met with a chuckle, a groan, or a weird look.

Recently, after leaving a business meeting, I stopped in the hallway to check text messages on my phone. As I was typing, a stranger paused and inquired, “Why are you wearing two wedding bands?” “I have two wives,” I said. This time there was no chuckle or groan. “No, really,” he said. “Why?”

I explained that I’d lost my father in 1999, shortly before the turn of the century, something he was really looking forward to experiencing. As we were saying our final farewells at his funeral, my mother, his wife of 50-plus years, removed his wedding band and handed it to me. Surprised, I placed the gold band on my left middle finger, next to my wedding band. There it has remained.

I told the stranger that I wear my father’s wedding band to honor my father and my parents’ marriage. I also wear it to remind myself to be the son, brother, husband, and dad that my father wanted me to be. I am now 60 years old and have been married for 30 years.

The stranger nodded and, without a word, turned and walked down the stairs to the parking lot. I returned to my mobile phone and messages. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the stranger walking back toward me. He said, “Sir, you know, I have my father’s wedding band in my sock drawer at home, and beginning today, I am going to start wearing it.” I silently nodded, and the stranger quietly turned and walked back down to the parking lot. And I smiled.

Hands of Time…..Traces

Time is a tough guardian. It makes memories fade away like writings on sand. The freshness and excitement of a new experience, once so enchanting, dulls like the ink on prayer flags high up on the mountains.

Try as one might, one cannot hold on to too much for too long. Its nature’s way of ensuring that sanity can be preserved in a human being. Yet, some memories defy time and stay ever fresh. That also seems to be for our sanity…I place my hand in my young daughters and instantly a picture is taken by the mind’s eye for safekeeping. This picture will be etched just like the first time her chubby fingers held mine as a baby.

I think of my mother’s hands, showing signs of a lifetime of work… I think of the times they have created ever so lovingly – favourite foods, warm sweaters, blessings, reassurances, prayers…they have never stopped working and weaving their magic. They say hands reveal a person’s age like nothing else can. I say hands reveal how much a person has loved. Time definitely leaves its trace on everything it touches…