Photo: How Memories Visit; via Unsplash, Bruno Martins.jpg
This moment is not present. It’s not relevant, it is the birth of moments from a forgotten childhood. Memories don’t visit us in our sleep. No, they watch us slumber, waiting for the sun to kiss the Black woman’s hair. It’ll come with the wind.
You see people often fail to regard the wind as an angel of deliverance. But the wind is as the dove flying to the heavens to bless a union. The wind is the waves grazing the skies. A gentle kiss on the cheek is the wind. She tickles your earlobe as she whispers a memory into your ear. Her feathers swirling down the cave to your eardrum.
The wind’s womb bearing fruits of truth, love and gentleness.
And when that wind, message, memory strikes your eardrum, only then will you know how powerful the wind is. Let that memory serenade you. Feel the serotonin flow through your veins like a gentle breeze raising goosebumps on your soft skin.
You have been blessed with a glimpse back to childhood. A glimpse of when you lived life freely without even knowing you existed. The greatest escape yet so unknowing and although within reach, still unreachable.
Jean shorts with ladybug embroidery. Barbie pink sneakers, no socks, no worries. Just innocent laughter and a heart overflowing. Oh, what you would give to relive through that story.
But as gently as it comes is not as gently as it leaves. It feels like the cold air hitting your damp cheek after a sweet kiss. Your mind stumbling as it runs after that feeling. And you watch it slip right through your fingertips, becoming one with the misty air. For days, weeks, maybe even months you’ll frantically search for a glimpse of that memory, and the warmth it fed your soul.
But do not search in vain,
When the time is right and the moment is ripe
The wind will hum a harmony softer than the hummingbirds
And like the beat of the drum, you’ll feel her kiss mark you with her embrace
Perpetual Kahindo is a third-year Political Science major. PK973548@wcupa.edu