the past / my past

So, you can’t change the past eh? Bullshit.

I overheard a conversation recently about American history. They say it was one way in the school books X number of years ago and now what the so-called reality of things was.

I listen to people share their experiences in meetings and in the back of my mind I wonder, “Was he/she really that bad”? Was I really that bad? The tales grow larger as the memory does.

I see my wedding ring nailed to the front door of a place I lived with my wife. That day I was sure I was going to die from the pain and kill for the anger. Today I wonder if we have passed each other on the street and not noticed.

I recall a job I complained about when doing. Now, some years later I recall a job that was a lot of fun.

I grew up learning about the nine planets of our solar system.

In less than an hour, I will be another year older.

Each year as my birthday approaches I think about the past. What I miss, what was fun, what I regret, what was awful. It changes. My past changes.

Yea, I know what you are going to say. The past remains the same only my recollection has changed. My opinion of the event has been altered. My older brain has become forgetful and my sad damaged brain has romanticized some events. You will be correct but you will not be right.

My recollection of my past, my history, is all I have to make it real in the first place. So, how I recall it is how it was.

I am sitting eating Rocky Road ice cream right out of the container. Because I can.

I am thinking about my past and the one I have now is better than the one I had a few weeks ago.

This could go for a while but I want to be asleep before midnight. I want to wake up forty-five, not just become it with the sweep of the second hand.

My past is full of great birthdays.