Remember to Forget

“May I remember to forget” she vowed in firm resolution, even as a stranger peered across at her almost invasively. Chipped nails adorned the hand that rubbed blearily as the owner struggled to comprehend the image ahead. Weary eyes, wrinkled skin, chapped lips and frown lines told the tale of a soul beset with hardships. 

She turned away from the mirror; its ornate frame glinting contrastingly against the grim image it showed. There was a startled yell as someone dropped yet another vase but she cared little; they were not hers to cry over anymore - trinkets of a stranger's life. 

Men trudged in and out of the once-bustling mansion stripping it layer by layer of all its adornments. It revealed a bareness that strangely resonated with the hollowness of the events she had once hosted in these very halls more than she cared to admit. 

Memories of false laughter, veiling spiteful intention echoed in the recesses of her mind. Friends turned foes clinked her glass while secretly lusting her fortunes. But she’d played that game too - chased the coattails of wealth and indulged herself in the pleasures that were within her grasp. 

How very superficial it all had been. The parts had been assigned, the play had been scripted and the actor was but a puppet of the screenwright bringing life to a vision that he had envisioned. But now the curtain had closed; the theatrics ended, and Cinderella must return to her fireplace. The illusion that had been her life had been stripped away leaving the bare bones of an abandoned theatre and a starving artist. 

There was nothing left to do but leave - so she did. Stepping out into the chill of an approaching spring day. She remembered, as her body trembled in protest against the frost, how soft the furs had felt thrown carelessly over her shoulders; feet toasty in fur-lined boots and fingers tucked inside fur-trimmed mittens. She remembered then, how it felt to be warm. 

The metal posts at the bus station shocked her from her stupor as she hurried to stuff her numbed fingers into her pockets in a vain effort to leave the sting of the cold behind. She had nought to do but idle as she peered up the road for the bus. Cars honked as their driver lamented over a seconds delay, even as they drove at their convenience. She remembered then, how it felt to be chauffeured. 

As she fumbled in her purse for loose change, her fingers unfortunately uncoordinated, she was given only rough words and harsh chiding as she was forced to make way for impatient passengers. There was no seat for her. Equally weary eyes greeted her before sliding away; empathetic in their gaze, but not enough to surrender their seats. She remembered then, how it had felt to be accommodated.

There was no one to greet her. People cared not to see those that walked the same paths as they did. There were no camera flashes, no red carpets, no paparazzi shots and no bowing aide to take her bag. 

She stumbled precariously over pavements that glinted like glass tiles; luggage in hand and scrawled directions in the other as she tried to make out the numbers on the doors. The doors that had once swung open at the mention of her name now stayed intimidatingly shut. She remembered then, how it had felt to be welcomed.

A brusque greeting and begrudging nod were the only acknowledgement afforded. The attic room smelled of mothballs and damp and the bed sent plumes of dust as she sat gingerly on the sheets. Agitated squeaks from the far recess of the room informed her that she was not alone. Her fingers grazed the ceiling as she stretched to change her sodden clothes and she could not help and stair aghast at the blackened tips. She remembered then, how it had felt to be comfortable. 

Claustrophobia chased her downstairs although her stomach had long since made its desires known. A bowl made up the lack of plates despite there being no dishes to serve. Rationed portions barely silenced the grumblings but the stale bread, stick of butter and half an egg were all that one was granted. She had no choice but to make her way back to the room with a stomach unsatisfied without complaint. She remembered how it had felt to be stuffed. 

The mattress was hard beneath her lean frame; its springs digging into her side as she lay. She shifted restlessly throughout the night as glowing eyes watched her verily from the floor. The sounds of the night were loud and unceasing and she could only fall into fitful sleep before the early rays of dawn were already upon the horizon. She remembered then how it had felt to be relaxed. 

The morning had come and she found herself awake in a fantasy of red and gold. The sun’s rays, unobscured by velvet curtains, made the dust dance in front of her playfully. She watched the gold evolve into the vibrant blue of a cloudless sky. Birds twittered on the window sill as they squeezed past the cracked panes to escape the morning chill. At that moment she forgot her bedsores. 

The breakfast porridge was warm and surprised her with its heartiness and she ate with gusto. As she scraped the bowl clean the satisfaction it brought surprised her. Yet more surprisingly, the innkeeper's subtle smile as she accepted the empty bowl gave her pause and she stumbled over the compliments alien to her vocabulary. In those moments she forgot the elaborate stylings of her personal chef. 

The streets bustled with life as the children dashed to school. Fathers stepped out with sombre briefcases and brisk strides as they hurried off to their next assignment while mothers gossiped on the stoops. Bicycles whizzed past as their youthful drivers tossed newspapers and post carelessly over hedges. It was quite removed from the eerie stillness of a morning in her mansion and in that moment she forgot her peaceful solitude. 

A young boy stood up to offer her a seat as she boarded the bus as his mother smiled broadly at him. Another stranger discarded a newspaper and she soon spied a potential job opportunity in the employment section which she clipped to follow up. The driver tipped his hat at her as she nodded at him as she disembarked and the little boy waved from his window as they drove away. At that moment she forgot her loneliness. 

As she joined the throngs of people going about their day she found that she had learnt to be better at keeping her vow. She had remembered to forget the times gone by and lived for the moments that brought her joy. Just last year she had lived in her memories, terrified to let go of the only evidence of the times she had paraded in the echelons of society; afraid that if she did she had nothing to celebrate in the present. She had hoarded these memories like souvenirs and yet they had inevitably been stripped away. Life had taught her different, and she had learned.

To live her life appreciative of the wealth she possessed today all she needed to do was to ‘Remember to Forget’ and not draw comparisons that yielded her no merit. She was happy now.