keeping memories

My Grandma’s photo album

Memories. “-Memories- is the word that could better describe my photos” my grandma says. When she was ten years old, my great-grandmother gave her a big photo album. She loved it since she put in her first picture: a family photo from the day she received the big blue album, her birthday. In the photo you can see my grandma’s twelve brothers and sisters, and my great-grandmother and father. In the next pages she has two pictures for each of her brothers and sisters, one from their childhood and one from their wedding days. She also has a few pages with her boyfriends’ pictures; the last one of course is my grandpa’s. Since then, she has been keeping pictures and quotes from very special occasions, like her journeys, her wedding day and her famous three floor chocolate cake, my father’s first photo and else. Every time someone looks at the photo album she says: “Turn the page, turn the page”. She never leaves you alone with her lovely album, never. “You need to be careful with the things you love”. When you get to my dad’s graduation day, her biggest collection, she tells you everything that had happened in the picture. The things she did that day. She tells you about the cake, the party and my dad’s look before and after the party, she does not emphasize too much at the “after” appearance, not even if you ask. There is no memory left in the album. Even the day her granddaughters, my sister and I, were born. In those pages, she has been writing special things about us but she says that someday we will be able to read it, when she stops writing or when the paper runs out. But actually, she always adds sheets to it. I think what she writes will be like the biggest letter I’ll ever receive. My grandma’s memories are all she has to keep even though the world turns down. Those memories, she says, someday will be ours, my sister and mine. “You should put lots of sheets in the future for your children and wedding days, don’t you think?” I could just say that my grandma is the best frame collector I’ve ever seen and met. She is the best memories keeper. She is my memories keeper.
We do not remember days; we remember moments. ~Cesare Pavese.

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Dying Eyes

Folder: 
Poetry

Dead eyes through the looking glass stare
gazing out from the face of time
upon the world beyond
the faded dreams
the lost thoughts
the long rotted memories
from beyond
the tomb of the lying crying forgotten dead eyes.

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The trip back home

 

I miss the hazy sunsets

And the mayhem on the roads

Impatient drivers through security checks

Short-tempered pedestrians

I took a trip back home

With my fears

And reservations uncalled for

I tread carefully

Cautious to the core

I looked at things with mixed feelings

But it all changed

With in matter of days

What was it that changed it all?

I do not know

The water, the sweet smell of soil

The people

The invisible bond

Of growing up

I am torn

Between then and now

I miss the cold evenings

And the dim lit streets

I miss the faces

I called my own

I love the place for what it is

I miss Pakistan

It hurts

Author's Notes/Comments: 

The recent trip to Pakistan was full of apprehensions and uncalled for fears. It was wonderful. Loved it.

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YESTERDAYS MEMORIES

Folder: 
FOLDER 2011


Whispers of
yesterday
continue to
haunt me.

Lingering
thoughts
ever present.

Running the
avenues of
my mind.

Whispers
of yesterday
flooding my
thoughts.

Silent
promises
lasting a
life time. 

(c) copyright heather burns

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Memories continue to haunt me, memories of you.

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WHISPERS OF YESTERDAY

Folder: 
FOLDER 2011


Whispers of
yesterday
remain
so clear,
promises
linger
so endearing.


Whispers of
yesterday
when I close
my eyes
your image
dances before
me,
disturbing
my sleep
penetrating
my thoughts.


Whispers of
yesterday
still calls
my name
soothing
me with
sweet words,
attending
to my
emotional
side. 

(c) copyright heather burns

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Whispers of yesterday

keeps calling my name

soothing me with sweet

words attending to my

emotional side.

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