Something I really hate about getting older is that I forget more and more of my childhood and lately even my youth. When I think back on my childhood there are a couple of memories which I always come back to. I rarely recall something new I haven’t thought about in a long time any more. Memory works that way. If you don’t occasionally recall a memory sooner or later it will be lost.
So many memories which has been lost to me. The thousands of days I went to school. How many of those days have I completely forgotten? All of the birthdays and Christmases. How many of those do I no longer remember a single thing from? I remember my childhood friends but most of the things we actually did together I’ve forgot. There’s a memory here and there. I remember how we used to play horses all the time but when I try to recall the actual play I only remember maybe three specific occasions. Hours and hours, of so many days during several years and all that remains are half-forgotten bits and pieces of three specific occasions.
It’s the same with all the hours spent at my favourite café with my best friends back in high school. I remember details from no more than six or seven separate occasions we hung out at that café. Six separate occasions out of how many? We went there every Friday for months and it wasn’t unusual for us to stay for at least three hours. And now it’s all lost to me, like so many other memories I once had.
All the pub nights and parties in Hultsfred. They’re all a blur. I remember many of them but far from all. It’s the same with all the people I met during this time. There are people I met on several occasions who I now can’t even recall the names of.
It bugs me. Forgetting what used to be my life. Like growing older isn’t bad enough. Do I have to forget my youth too?