Memorycemetery

Memory ….is such a fragile thing…Longer we have come to the present moment,  thinner the line of the memory became….then I am not even sure if it happened in reality, or just i was dreaming about it…or my brain has manipulated me conveniently…

my first memory….is just sounds and pictures….i can see only the old wooden framed window. and there is the noise that old window makes. I guess it was in winter. there are some traces of snow on the window. then cracks and sounds.

this is the earliest memory I could remember. I guess I was not even 2 years old since my parents moved to newly renovated house by the time I reached three years old.

But is it true that i was living in such a place???…not sure anymore….or do i really have this memory?…Or my mother talked about it and my brain took as my memory????  dont know….

5th year of me staying in London, my father finally decided to visit me there. Then one of the sightseeing days, I took him to the British Museum which was refurbished recently at that time. As soon as he entered the library which was designed in a circle with full of collective valuable books, he said in amazement.

“This is the place I dreamt when I was a boy! This is the place!.I was only 6 years old when I had this dream. But I still remember, and time to time I was thinking where it could be! This is the place. and This is the reason. ”

It cant be just the manipulated memory since the plan of the library was not even planned when he was young. And the layout of the library is not the usual one.

Since that day every morning (till him leaving London), he walked from the hotel at Baker street to the British Museum. (if you know the map of London, its not a short walk, not even pleasant!!)…I wonder what he has been thinking about with these walks…

Is there any strong connection between my father and the library?  I wonder if it was just a key for him to trace back to his memory as a boy???

Mayuko

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