A Trip Down Memory Lane

As I sat there watching all the communicants march into church, all

dressed in pristine white (and some in off white), all dressed to the ‘T’, ready to receive Jesus for the very first time, I couldn’t help myself but take a walk down memory lane, over couple of decades back to my own First Holy Communion.

I remember that I was the only child not in white, not even in off white. In fact I was wearing a three piece suit that was grey and blue. I guess my aunt knew the kind of child I was and couldn’t trust me with keeping the suit white. In which case any other colour would be safe bet.

So there I was, standing out in a sea of white, definitely not a sore thumb, but a handsome young man (as I would myself to believe), marching into church as the choir sang “Lead your children Jesus to the altar”. Being a child with a speech impediment (and yet do have it) I wasn’t given any part in the reading, or the eucharistic celebration, a bit stab of disappointment for any child who would love to read, who would love to participate. But then that’s life, you make do what you’re given with.

When it came time to receive communion I remember forgetting to join with my hands at my side as my mum looked on (dada wasn’t there). After mass it was time to click pics at the altar and the grotto with mum, godma, and not to forget my class teacher, who’s daughter was receiving communion with me, so yipee she wouldn’t be there in class (as I had bunked school that day) and I wouldn’t be missing much in terms of lessons.

In the evening we had a small party with my neighbours and close family friends. I remember my best friend Ryan joining me to cut my cake. I distinctly remember trying to cut that cake, struggling to do the deed, thanks to the hard icing. But all said and done, though I had a quiet party, I had a good and memorable time.

And as I reminisced on the past, the memories made, the present beckoned me. So I had to come back to the present and stop dreaming of the past and of time gone. The past is a beautiful memory that will remain with me forever, no one can take that away from me. But now it was time to come to the present and join the celebration of the children. I had this smile on face thanks to the memories I had.

Reminiscing the Night Away

They sat there on the front porch, by the fire, slowly sipping their whiskey, reminiscing about a starry night just like this, quite a long ago that now it seemed like another lifetime. They were young and brave and full of life and were not prepared to die.

They strummed and hummed to calm themselves down, while they could hear distance sounds of drums. Though they didn’t admitted it then but were not afraid to say it now that the sounds of drums and bugle call almost made them cry. As that night went by, every minute, every hour felt like a day. With every passing moment they could hear the sounds of guns and roar of canon, approaching closer that it made them cry out of fear.

But then something stirred within they. They were so afraid that couldn’t be afraid anymore. They realised why they joined the fight, for liberty, for freedom. There was something in the air that night, the stars shone so bright, as if they shone brightly for them, as they fought valiantly, fought bravely, filling them with a sense that they could not lose, they didn’t have any regrets.

Now they were old and grey and its been many years since they held a rifle in their hand. But they could still hear the beating of the drums, the bugle call, the roaring of the guns and the booming of the canons as they crossed the river grand. They could see the pride in each other’s eye as they fought for freedom of this land. 

And through it all they found each other, a life in each other, a companion in each other, but they still longed for that life that now seemed to have passed them by. They longed for action, for purpose in their mundane lives. If they had to do the same again, they would without any hesitation or fear, they would fight for freedom for the lands.

And as they reminisced about that starry night, so long ago, they fell to sleep on that porch, before that burning fire, but holding each other’s hand.