When the Sunshine Fades

Hello, Lavenders!

How was your day? Mine was calm. I finished a book I’d been reading. Then I tried picking up another, but nothing clicked. So, I gave up and watched a movie instead. What movie? Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. It was my first time seeing it. I’d heard about it before—how everyone seems to think it’s essential viewing—but it never really caught my interest. Probably because I’m not into romance. Or maybe it’s because I’ve never been in love (yet). For now, love is still a fuzzy idea, not a memory. But I decided to give it a chance. December 31st is the last day it’s on Netflix, and that was enough reason to press play.

When it ended, what lingered in my mind wasn’t the love story; it was the idea of having control over your memory—of your mind becoming selective. Have you ever thought about that? If you could erase a person, a moment, a chapter of your life—would you? For me, I don’t think I could. Even the hard parts—the ones I’d rather forget—feel like they belong. They’ve shaped me in ways I didn’t see at the time. Without them, maybe I’d be a little lighter, a little less worried, but I wouldn’t be me. Some memories feel like an old sweater. Soft. Familiar. They hold you, remind you of who you are. But then there are the heavy ones. The ones that feel like a backpack you forgot to take off. People say, “Pain makes you stronger,” but sometimes it just stays. Like a ketchup stain on your favourite shirt—they may fade over time, but a trace of them always stays.

I don’t know why, but during an hour and 48 minutes of watching, a line I found on the internet lingered in my mind:

“We sit down
in the smell of the past
and rise in a light
that is already leaving.
We ache in secret.“

Clementine’s impulsivity, Joel’s desperation, the memories they erased only to find them again—it all circles back. We carry what we try to leave behind. We sit down in the smell of the past and rise in a light that is already leaving. We ache in secret because we are porous, because we are human, because we were built to carry it all—the sweaters, the backpacks, the ketchup stains.

Thank you for visiting my little lavender fields.

God bless and goodbye!

~Rue