Never underestimate the power of storytelling.

What goes around might be walked again

Where shall we go on vacation this year?
How about memory lane?
A change in scenery is always a good idea. But what if you know knew the scenery?

For a couple of days, I visited a place where I used to live, met up with people I used to meet, and walked streets I used to walk.
And memory lane became the rabbit hole.

This time I admit: George has a point.
The world around me was known and unknown. Slightly twisted, like your a not-quite-so-alternate-reality episode from your favourite science fiction show.

Except the lesson of every such episode is that it's you who's alternate. What do you expect, dropping into another reality and pretending that they're all wrong? You left and got out of phase!

Are we stretching sci-fi metaphors again? Fine! Yes, a constant feeling of displacement was my travel guide. Like a street with familiar windows but the décor and offered goods had changed.
Memory lane is lined with shops. And you Sir, you're last season. And not yet retro enough to fit.

George relentlessly reminded me that it wasn't my turf (any more).
Decisions and consequences. You chose to leave. If you see yourself as a victim, accept being the culprit!
Take a close look at the what-could-have-been.
And at the what-evolved-without-you.
Another rabbit moved into this wonderland.

I truly enjoyed the visit.
Come again? o.O

My friends took care of the wonderland while I was gone. They welcomed new tenants and gave all the trees a new wallpaper.
But they evolved away from you! Your connection weakened and you're barely an outside observer now! You're the intangible Ghost of Christmas Past. Doesn't it pain you to only haunt what you've lost?

To connect with what I loved and – more importantly – what it became?

This memory lane was not a museum of silent stone, of painted stills. It was a meeting place, a table laid out in front of us. And I wasn't the Ghost of Christmas Past, neither were the others. We were warlocks and witches of Walpurgis night, dancing around a burning fire.

Are we stretching fantasy metaphors again?
You were commemorating the past. Observing a cold body.

If this is the only way you can perceive the past, then I pity you, George. We reconnected over what was, what is and what might be. We shared our stories. The fire burned brightly, the laughter could be heard from miles away. And we promised to meet again. On another memory lane. We will walk its shops and go to the movies. And I pray for new movies to be shown.


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