I know people who remember everything. They remember what they were wearing when we met, every time we met, they remember everything we talked about, every silly little joke. They remember everything about their childhood, every punch they’d taken, the names of the punchers, the shape their bloody noses painted in the snow. They remember the odd stuff and the beautiful little things, like it was yesterday.
I don’t. I have a really bad memory. My past is an archive somewhere in the dark. I imagine it’s dusty down there, a warm, earthy smell in the air, a floor out of old oak planks, creaking with every new load coming in. The archive is huge, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t have easy access to it. There is no index, no peevish archivist to ask. Instead I depend on my subconsciousness to be triggered. It can be everything: They way someone says a word in a specific dialect and tone, an image, a song. Music is an exceptional trigger.
Two days ago there was a guy in a bar, singing songs with his guitar. Then he played those chords, the riff, singing the melody of an old Clapton-classic. I was right back in the car, sitting next to my father in the old Mercedes he borrowed from my grandma. We were listening to this Clapton-CD, on the way to his new home, the first ride after my parents broke up and I my heart of an 8 year old was shattered. We flew along the highway, «Layla» on the radio, cold air entering through the lowered window, but I knew somehow, life would go on and my love would be ongoing for both of my parents. And so it was.
I also access my memories through smell. It is somehow less developed – I often smell that I remember something, but I cannot label it. Still working on that skill, I guess. But when it comes to perfume, it hits me pretty hard. As much as I love smelling perfume on someones skin, it often confuses me when people I know have the same fragrance. It smells different on every skin, yes, but only partly. The rest smells like someone else. By now, Chanel N°5 has become a mosaic of faces and moments, a melange of memories. It’s like as if you would listen to the same song for all of your life.