Memories Lost and Found

I didn’t know if the bus was early or late, but the fact that it was the right bus and that my steps didn’t stutter was a good thing.  I’m usually paranoid because the bus tends to be late and I’m afraid I’ll be stuck in Amagi with no money.  I boarded and sunk into a comfortable seat.

IMG_1819It was nighttime and the yellow lights reminded me of back home in the Copper Country.  Yellow lights are softer and allow more of the natural night sky to favor evening forays.  In Houghton, the only place that lights up the night is the local Wal-Mart, representing a stain on an otherwise sleepy little town.  But I digress.  It is but sparked memories that come to mind.

My heart and soul reside in the Copper Country while my body lives day to day elsewhere.  Memories flourish in calm moments of reflection, which can be dangerously debilitating, or energizing for the next day.  You decide.

I am not home.

Watching as the bus passed the ETC was a raw moment of realization that I was not home.  I mean, I am home but I am not.  Hita has become a home but my roots are planted far away and ground me with a long tether.  I began to question those substantial questions that every generation of philosophers like to dwell on.  IMG_2745What is the need?  This great cosmos exists and each day we try to fulfill it to our best ability, or not.  There are certainly some days when a time-out is necessary in order to recharge for more extensive attacks.  What is our place?  Where do we belong?  Shall I bring out the ID? – Where do I belong?  In the end none of these questions matter.  They are a fun exercise in reflection and discovery but serve no real purpose towards forward movement.

Even the mundane sparks memories.  The smell of an absent lover, rounding a corner and expecting to see their face, the aura of similar lighting, a familiar face, the touch of nostalgic fabric, or a haunting melody.  Each convey a small slice of memory.  A beautiful thing.  Take a moment to breathe the next time you’re trapped by that stoplight, or gaze upwards when waiting in line at the grocery store, or pause when the sky catches your eye, or smile when that person standing next to you does something extraordinary.


About Matthew J. Durocher

Matthew Durocher is a graduate of Michigan Tech University. He acquired his BA in English along with a minor in Music Composition and a certificate in Writing in Spring 2012. His style is one of passion and musicality. One foot is firmly rooted in tradition while the other slides dangerously close to the clouds.
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