Memory Is By Sebastian Gomez

Memory is the birds that sing in the midst of the frigid December morning. The same song reverberates from the trees without delay, as though the leaves have returned to their dark shade of green and yellow. As though the sun has returned to beaming down without mercy or restraint on the bubbling blacktop.

Bolting speed-wagons whiz past as they hurtle towards their ever so precious destination, ignoring the bright orange blob making use of the radiant afternoon. Gusts of wind plow through the naked trees leading leaves towards tiny clusters of eggshell white snow stained with black spots and gray oil. 

Memory is the stench of oncoming fumes one must brace themselves for the moment a chassis passes. A physical collision one could argue is much worse than oncoming traffic, yet, you are transported back to the concrete jungle you once felt was home. You are transported back to a familiar McDonalds you would occasionally walk to with your stern, untiring grandma only to pass by in favor of the laundromat. You enjoyed the hoards of people within every street corner. They looked like you, talked like you, and were only a sidewalk away from you. Floor covers were unheard of in the playgrounds you and your brother frolicked in and no one ever caught you when you fell, but life was good.

As you begin to pick up the pace, perspirations begin to appear on your brow and trickle down your body. No matter the temperature, sweat always seems to find its way back. All you can hope is to get back home in time before icicles begin to form on your chin.

Memory is the exertion of all you have when nothing is left in your gas tank. The same iron will that motivated you to prepare for the oncoming sports season during the season of overbearing sun. Many a time has passed since then, yet this much remains constant. The constant fatigue of your legs, lungs, and arms, the constant strain you would occasionally get in your side when conquering the monstrous hill dubbed Misery Mountain, the constant thoughts and recollections that are suddenly revisited with each step and site and smell you come across.

Memory becomes unavoidable, ever prevalent throughout one's life and duties. With every action comes a new one in a never-ending cycle of storage within the psyche. Memory is beautiful, memory has power, memory has life.