What is it with memories?

They carry us through good times and not so good times. Are they just thoughts or do they mean something more?

There are days I feel trapped by my memories; the past — it’s not as forgiving as we would like it to be. Is it the painful bits that grab us and won’t let go, or is it simply the joy that don’t seem to remain?

2001, Salzburg: Manuel, Gosia, Shannon, me, Dona, Blue Mike, Fabio

I’ve been a bit under the weather of late (who am I kidding, let’s call it immense emotional distress, and leave it at that). And my friends, they have rallied by my side, more than anything I would have expected.

It’s truly only in your darkest hours that the light around you shines the brightest. And I’ve been blessed with some incredible folks in my life.

Nothing beats the realisation that yes, in this life, we are alone. We are just us, by ourselves. We have to be, to forge an authentic identity. But yet, we are never alone, not really, not unless we choose to be. There is so much love out there, no amount of pain or suffering can diffuse it.

2001, on a train from Salzburg :: 2007, night lights in Kuala Lumpur

Thing is, people change. We all do. Even when we don’t. Feelings and idea and our bodies especially. It’s aging and when we are fortunate enough, it’s even a bit of growing up we do.

I can think no example clearer than when my good friends Gosia and Manuel came over to Malaysia a few months ago for their honeymoon. We’ve been friends for over five years, since first meeting them as students in Munich. This Italian-Polish couple has shared so much of my life then, that just seeing them again for the first time in half a decade, well, it was an explosion of memories.

Everything came back all at once, all the stupid things we did at 3:00 in the morning, half-drunk and dragging “borrowed” bicycles around the city blocks, laughing and dancing under a summer sun, hours spent dreaming and discussing our futures, which had, suddenly, with the rapid flight of time, has come to pass.

Memories can be such beautiful things.

2002, in a tavern in Munich :: 2007, San Pedro Festival in Malacca

But comes with time, comes change.

Gosia’s looking more gorgeous than ever. The glow of a new bride. Manuel’s put on a bit of weight, a healthy dose of belly fat fit for a husband. And me, I seem to have lost kilos with every month, but my smile is happier. They were in love. And so was I.

Here’s the thing I’ve learned though: Change keeps changing. It doesn’t stay still. It whirls out of your hands the moment you think you’ve got it all figured out. And this is okay. This is Life. This is where the magic begins…

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Next: The story of The Honeymooners begins with a special chapter from a guest blogger. My first guest blogger! I’m so excited I could… well, let’s not go into that here…