Memories

Why do I remember this particular moment? It must have happened some 15 years ago. My mother is trying to unlock the door of our 1 bedroom apartment on the first floor. I’m standing next to her with a sugarcane, that I must have acquired from a sugarcane field on my way home from school. It’s around 1400h and the sun is beating down on us. I don’t remember what happened after or before that moment. Because this particular memory is in picture format. Not even a picture but rather an oil painting where I cannot tell my mother’s or even my own face. And the weirdest part is, the picture is not even a first person perspective (as in taken by my eyes) but a wide angle shot taken from across the street, covering the stairs and the nearby houses. It’s as if every time I try to remember that moment, I’m going back in time and looking at myself from a distance, knowing everything that is going to happen in the future.

Or maybe I never remembered things from my own perspective. Maybe I was aware that someone was watching us from across the street and that’s why I remember it that way. All my memories are infiltrated by this third person watching me do things. People who watch me do things have become a part of my memories. I’m less aware of what I’m doing and more aware of people watching me do it. I surrendered my right to remember my past long time ago.