anniversary

an·ni·ver·sa·ry  [an-uh-vur-suh-ree] noun, plural –ries

1. the yearly recurrence of the date of a past event: the first anniversary of their marriage; the sixteenth anniversary of their relation.

2. the celebration or commemoration of such a date.

§ elaborating 1 and 2:

§1. The recurrence of the date:

 i.e. an anniversary is the human way to keep track of our events through time. Specifying how many hours, days, months separate us from the birth of an experience, from the birth of a memory.

such a lie………..

such a poor attempt of people to put life in boxes, so as to get a once again a [false] feeling of controlling life.

Anniversaries are false, cause we cannot set time. 

One minute could be a week and one year could be a day. 

Time is how we feel the events, experiences and memories we get throughout our existence, and no numerical value can denote this.

A kiss I remember lasts 20-days in my head. Sometimes it lasts 40.

A year I recall lasts 17 seconds.

A month I recall lasted 10 months.

A dinner conversation I had, am sure it lasted 3 months.

And a dance I had once lasted 4 days.

My childhood lasted 9 years.

School 90 days.

University 9 months.

He last 79 years. First came the first 14. Then I recall a 2-month time. Then came 24 years, and then another 37. He lasts more than 79 come to think of it…

...apparently, in human scale, I would have to have 79 anniversaries with you…. 

Wow… we really need to catch up on our anniversary dinners ! 

§2. The celebration !

What are we celebrating? The past event itself? And why? It’s in the past and it is over!

The outcome of the event? 

How our life has been affected after and because of such an event? 

Yey… I’ll stand by this…

I love anniversaries…

Not so that I recall the event itself, but I really really indulge in remembering and reliving all the effects that this event has made in my life. All the feelings I’ve had since, and the times I’ve re-approved or re-disapproved  the event.

Anniversaries are my pause button in a stormy life to just “stay” and take a minute to say to you and to him how nice it’s been. And talk and talk and talk about all the mixed memories that I keep. 

It’s like making time (human time) to listen to a mixtape of memories. And I love mixtapes so much (yes, i'm old-school...) so how can I not love memory-mixtapes ?

Για εσένα, για την baby-bathing mixtape σου: