Memory

Sometimes how you remember someone is a function of how you use to remember them in a moment rather than who or how they were. It is a memory, of your memory of them; if that makes any sense.

I listen to this song and it reminds me of someone, that I thought about when I was listening to this song at another time. So the nostalgia that hits me is not of that person. It is of my feeling towards them before.

So counterintuitive. Yet, helps me makes sense of things so much better.

Stephen kissed me in the spring,
Robin in the fall,
But Colin only looked at me
And never kissed at all.

Stephen’s kiss was lost in jest,
Robin’s lost in play,
But the kiss in Colin’s eyes
Haunts me night and day.

― Sara Teasdale, The Collected Poems