9-16-01, Lisa Laird, 624 words
Lisa's Lair
By Lisa Laird
IPS Features
An Unforgettable Memory
No childhood memory can remotely compare with a brisk
day in March when I was fifteen years old.
The sixteen-dollar apiece tickets, worth ten million to me, were
purchased several months before the projected event that held a countless
variety of dress rehearsals in my mind. The
same costumes were never worn twice. I was to discover that fantasy would not exceed reality;
reality proved to be everything it needed to be, everything I needed it to
become.
My parents had reserved four-second row tickets to see
my favorite band perform in person. Although
I had seen them several years earlier, this time was different; there was a
special aura in the atmosphere from the moment that envelop of admissions
arrived in the mailbox.
Each day closer to the top of the mountain, or rather,
to the assigned seats at the coliseum, heightened my intuition of upcoming
possibilities. Perhaps the awaited
day could very well affect my life in some way, shape, or form…no matter how
seemingly insignificant to those around me.
After nothing short of what felt like an eternity, I
eagerly walked into the welcoming lobby, wearing a purple shirt, designer blue
jeans, and a new pair of leather shoes. I
felt on top of the world as I flipped through the program booklet and grazed on
a piping hot pizza roll while waiting my admittance to the inner sanctuary of
song.
When the band ran onto the stage, I was in my own
personal non-smoking section of heaven. I
clapped my hands, tapped my feet, and sang along, not missing a word.
My father occupied himself taking unprofessional photos of all the
onstage action. Yeah, I know…really cool, going with my mother and father
to a concert. But I did bring a
friend with me, too. Besides, my
parents bought the tickets and drove us there, so I didn’t mind; I was
grateful.
At one point during the show, I actually realized that
the entire event was soon to be a newly formulated memory, with the paint still
wet. I dismissed the depressing
thought and once again submerged myself in glorious splendor. As the concert was in its final moments of tangible
existence, the feeling of oneness, being at the same place at the same time with
my revered idols, was rapidly slipping away.
I had thought to wait outside the back door, figuring if
the band members were to leave the building, they’d do so that particular way;
I was absolutely correct. I was
reenergized upon receiving an autograph from one of the lead singers and posing
together for a picture.
As the crooner walked away, he quickly jumped onto the
saddle of a nearby car and galloped into the sunset. The long awaited day turned into fragments of dust that had
blown into the automobile before the engine had started. Because as the car vanished into the distance, so much that I
cherished went along with it. I
never saw that charming singer again.
And today, I remember the emotionally impacting time
frame as if it were earlier this morning. The
experience has taught me to strive to fully engulf myself in wondrous moments,
as they are continuously fleeting. It amazes me how we may mourn certain circumstances that are
merely ours to temporarily borrow. I
have also learned that well-protected memories, in a sense, allow these great
expectations, turned even greater as outcomes, to be permeated as strengthening
forces inside of us. All we
encounter, no matter the rhyme or reason knowingly or unknowingly affects us
somehow.
Oddly enough, any one flat tire that day might have
changed my life.
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