Evanescence

I clung tightly to Dad’s waist. Sitting still on the back of a Honda Wave, hot breezes tapped through my face. Crossing Muong Nhat bridge, a naive thought about time suddenly pop up in my six year-old mind - I recall wondering how tomorrow would be like. Amidst the haze of memory, such fleeting moment stays. Tan kids laughed and cursed in the middle of the muddy water. Plowing buffalos and farmers plodded afar.

That was my first piece of memory about the passing of time. Looking back, I sometimes think they are proofs that I was there, was at the exact moment, and was myself. Indeed, there is no evidence that I was myself other than a vaguely connected collection of memories. Time does pass. Though there were moments in life that I wished could last forever. A hug. An expression. Eyes. Lips. But perhaps it’s how all things should be. Forever isn’t always a good thing.

I moved to Australia, left behind pieces of memory. New collection of memory forms, carelessly blurs old ones. On a flight to Brisbane, another piece stays. I sat by a tiny airplane window, looked afar. Sun set. The orange sky dawned upon white bubble clouds. I was intrigued by the complexity of nature. One hand stayed still under my chin, I shifted focus to my fingers. The stunning sky blurred into background. Our mind keeps what our eyes see, and our eyes returned the favour, see what our mind wants them to see. It was peaceful and melancholy knowing the vastness.

I marvel at the analogy that music is the passing of time. Music isn’t fulfilled with one note, or one score - it comes from a collection of past scores and present note. At each moment in time, you listen to the passing of time upon the strike of each note.