Each of us has our own bench. Not even one. We have places we want to return to, even if our memory awakens our longing. Places that tell our story. Wonderful moments with those we were once close to. These are the courtyards of our childhood, the home of our parents and grandparents, the first kisses, walks, promises, confessions, frustrations, a bitter of separations… These are the songs we listened to together, the words we don’t want to forget.
My bench is in my hometown, in the garden full of trees and flowers, near the wall of the parents’ home, where I lived for 18 years. Sitting on it next to a home where the environment has changed so much over the years, I go back to my childhood and adolescence. I try to reproduce memories, sensations, smells, distant landscapes. I close my eyes and realize that instead of the current block of houses under construction, there were once fields and meadows and how I ran there. The heart is crushed by unspeakable nostalgia, but at the same time, it becomes so good and warm in the soul.
And where is your bench and what feelings does it give you?
© Fortune, 2019
We should cherish our memories, agree?