Friday, May 15, 2009

A Kind Of Journey To The Past

Alex, my new-found hairstylist, brushed the bleaching solution onto my hair, wrapped it in aluminum foil, and put my head under a heating device. He set the timer. 10 minutes.

Immediately after, my phone gave out an alert: an incoming text message. I took it out of my pocket and saw the following message on the default display: "Inbox full. Delete some messages." After perusing the message (it was from Rems) and quickly replying to it, I followed my pink gadget's instructions. One by one, I skimmed through the messages before deciding which ones to delete.

Like a history book, the messages that my Inbox contained opened a huge window that looked out to a vast space of memoirs. Some of them chronicled an ongoing romance--- how it started, and how it blossomed into the most wonderful thing I hold dearest in my heart right now. Some of them answered why some relationships had to end. Some said goodbye. Some inspired. Some showed frustrations. Some were of hope. Some were of promises that didn't hold true. Some were I love you's that meant so much back then, but which, now seem empty and meaningless. Some were funny. Some were reassuring. Some were outright provoking. Some were just imbecilic. And some, worth keeping.

Some made me smile. Some kept me baffled. Some made me giggle in the inside. Some raise my eyebrows. Some made me want to cry.

Each one of them held a particular memory that I went over in my mind with much fondness.

Just instantly, and as if from nowhere, Alex's assistant came and peeped into the foil wrapping to check whether the desired hue has already been achieved. "10 more minutes," he said with a smile, then went on to check another client.

As I deleted quite a number of messages--- some more than willingly, others quite hesitantly--- I reflected on the lessons that had to be learned from my recent past. What do these strings of events say about who I was yesterday and who I've become today? What do they say about the human associations that I have forgotten, which I shouldn't have? And what do they foretell about those that I chose to keep? How can I, with these experiences as the foundation, become a better person?

The timer went off and Alex promptly came to my station. He removed the foil and ushered me to the shampoo area. When he finished a few minutes later, he removed my gown and said, "You're done." My journey to the past was done. I was back to the here and now. The memories became just that. Memories. Fragments of the past. Pieces that cannot be repeated nor undone; but pieces that make up for the here and now, nonetheless.

Five minutes later, I walked out of the salon sporting a fresh haircut and a refreshed Inbox. Not to mention, and a fresher understanding of myself. My then, my now, and what I want my future to be.