Memories + Stories
Life has a way of reminding us of our past struggles. We are instantly taken back to a dark memory, whether it be through a smell, an anecdote, or a song.
But, just as our brains remind us of the hard moments, they also remind us of the beautiful ones. And, I recently have begun to take note of these moments more acutely.
We are so consumed with our daily lives it’s hard to notice the little things that can make our heart swell. For me, it’s when I see people in PJs out for a late-night snack. Or a group of friends at the grocery store together. A little kid smiling and waving. An old couple on a date. Someone jamming out in the car by themselves, or with friends. Families laughing together. Two people out on a first date and they’re nervous.
These are the moments that make you remember you’re experiencing life at the same time as the people around you. It’s heartwarming, but also reminds you of your own moments of shared humanity.
Like someone sharing music with you or telling you their favorite joke. Gushing to someone about your favorite movie. A friend sending you a funny video just because they were thinking about you. A stranger doing a random act of kindness.
I tend to look at other people and notice the beautiful moments they’re having and remember that I have moments like those all the time. If I were to put together a montage of my life’s memories, it would look wonderful.
Singing karaoke with my brothers and cousins. Going to Broadway shows with my mom. The time my brothers and I took our dad to our favorite bar until 4 a.m. Meeting new people. My little brother’s laugh. Vacations with my friends.
It also, naturally, would have some messy moments too. Moments of me crying (often), not leaving my bed, fights with loved ones, and grief. The ugly parts remind me that I’m human, that I’ve hurt before and I’ll hurt again but I always get through it.
As a writer, it’s served me well to think of all these moments of my life as part of my story.
If I had to guess, it’s been years since I’ve written a story. I’ve written essays and blog posts and journal entries, but not a story. One with a beginning, middle, and end. A story with rising action, conflict, and characters, just as all my teachers taught me.
In recent years, I’ve found it much easier — and cathartic — to write about my own life in first person. I’ve written about my realities and my struggles. And for someone who has a fairly hard time being vulnerable, spilling my innermost thoughts in writing comes pretty naturally to me.
But stories, ones of fiction, have proven to be a bit harder. As a child with an active imagination, they flowed out of me easily.
Now, I’ve come to the realization that I’m writing the story of my life every day. In doing so, it fuels the stories I can create on paper.
These snapshots of my life are really just inspiration for characters, settings, conflicts, resolutions, and anything else I can imagine. As I try to write more stories, I am reminded that being a storyteller isn’t about creating something perfect, but allowing myself to be reflected in my work.
