Tuesday, September 11, 2012


While writing about the past, (which I do sometimes, to understand my experiences) I have discovered that individual memory has a strange cadence.  It can be jagged.  Smooth as stone.  It can be a space between.  Arranging it, I am learning, is not so simple.  The order of things is never as linear as I imagine it to be.

I'm thinking of a book of non-fiction I read long ago, Underground: The Tokyo Gas Attack and the Japanese Psyche by Haruki Murakami, which includes a series of testimonies from victims of the attack.  The telling of events in these stories were eerily similar to one another, always beginning with time (the time of the trains, the wait, the need to be somewhere when) and, then, a sweet, sweet smell.

Today, I see a similar pattern, an order to our collective memories.  The memory of today almost always begins with a shock of blue sky.


  1. this sounds like my words for today. I wanted to write something about today but couldn't do it. I think silence fits this day very well.

    the best way to honor the past is to continue living -- that's something I've heard and agreed with. to continue is to dream and to realize how precious time can be.

    hope sunshine is in your day today.

  2. My begins with a clock-radio. Connected to time, too. :) I couldn't believe the words I was hearing and had to run to the tv. Surreal. I wish I could express it to my kids in a way they'd understand. But hard to express it.

  3. Hm, how interesting :)

    When I look back to today, I see it began with the feeling of coolness and thinking how dark morning has become (for now).

  4. You are such a beautiful writer, Melissa. For some reason I haven't stopped by in a while, but I woke up this morning missing your words! Is that weird?

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