While cleaning out my closet today, I opened a box labeled "painful memories." It contained memories from high school that hurt to remember, but were too important to forget. Their lesson: "Never again." Looking through the box, while contemplating a temporary relocation to the fireplace, I found that the pain wasn't what it once was. I emptied both the "painful memories" box and the "memories" box, and with a brief game of real-life tetris placed the combined contents into their new wooden home. I shut the lid securely, then nestled the new posh box deep into my closet.
Painful memories no longer--just memories.
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I heard an interview on NPR, from whence all good knowledge springs, where Isabel Allende shared that her sister worked with refugees. She said that her sister knew they had recovered when they had their stories. I agree and think that when a bad memory becomes a story, you've healed.
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