Recently, my mind has been on a roller coaster ride of memories. The 90s are hitting me hard and not sure why is that the case. from my time of street cricket in Islamabad to the first snow in the USA to the welcoming of the new Millenium on the streets of DC.
there is sometimes too much flowing through the brain and the ability to capture and write is not possible.
Life has been a journey.
I am a nomad than a resident. Maybe a world citizen. looking past at my life, USA was the longest stint of time spent anywhere which was 14 years. otherwise, life has been divided into Pakistan, Bahrain, Pakistan, USA and Qatar. Every timeframe offering a different perspective, different challenges.
there is one memory that has been sticking out for me for a while. i think it is my earliest memory.
it is from a place called satellite town. we lived here until I was few years old and moved to Islamabad. what I remember is that it is a holiday or the weekend. We are somewhere in spring. I remember there is a veranda in the back of the house. I can feel the cold of winter going away and the heat of the sun making it very comfortable. Everyone in the house is asleep. I am awake, I am sitting on the veranda playing with a red rail engine toy.
There is nothing more to the memory than this but when I think about it. I can still feel the warmth of the sun, the feeling of light cold in the air, the coldness of the veranda ground, and the beautiful spring morning.
“Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it.”
― L.M. Montgomery, The Story Girl