It’s simple: Life is complicated. As you walk out one door you find yourself entering it again with new experiences years later. Two worlds collide, one of yesterday and one of today. In this collision, the only world which seems real is that of transcendent reality: the moments which go beyond breath and seeing and float within a realm greater than the mind and heart, slipping deep into the spiritual. These moments cannot be maintained for long as we are creatures of this world. However, if we find ourselves here we acknowledge  we are briefly on a soul-driven walkway…mentally surveying the current truth and lining it up against what we have already lived; yet, still physically moving. We walk through life alongside our memories and the world around us does the same.

It is as if we are taking an old photograph of the roses we received from a past lover on Christmas, holding it up to the sunlight against a picture of the roses you purchased for yourself this Christmas. They are both pictures of flowers which celebrate the love of the season and the soul; however, the images don’t match…the lines within the sunlight don’t capture identical blooms or identical worlds. Indeed, one is much different than the other. One is a memory and the other you can take your eyes off the picture, walk inside, and smell the perfumed flowers which are beautifully arranged on the kitchen table. Yet, for a brief moment when you smell the roses on the table, you find your spirit has taken the journey back to the fresh fragrance called Remembrance. And for this brief second, you find yourself fully alive within two worlds.

These are powerful moments. I recently ate dinner at a new restaurant which used to be the coffee shop I loved. Before even opening the doors I knew each crevice, where dust settles from the air conditioner, what the walls feel like after a rain, and which pictures would tilt first from the front door shutting. I could visualize people gathering in the corners on comfy chairs sipping lattes and soup. I could hear kids giggling in the playroom, anxious parents trying to settle them down, and rushed guests attempting to eat before their lunch hour expired. I could hear familiar voices, and I expected to see faces of whom I knew when I walked through the door.

But none of that was there. Everything had been remodeled. Every smile was from a stranger. Each voice blended with a radio station I didn’t recognize and the sound of plates I had never seen. In walking through the door two worlds collided: that of my love and that of someone else’s love. They were both restaurants, but the current picture was stripped of my work, my laugh, my dreams, my love, and my plans. In holding up my memories to that of the current picture, the only thing that was the same was my tears.

I excused myself and headed to the bathroom. I knew what direction to turn and where the light switch was located. It was a familiar comfort to know such things until the light came on and I saw how much even the décor in the ladies room had changed. My reflection in the mirror was still me, the building was still a building, but everything around me was different. Circumstances were different, the year was different. I felt like a grownup returning to her childhood home now occupied with new tenants. All the marks of my growth had been painted over, and my heart cried under the suffocating knowledge that time changes worlds even when our mind keeps memories as still and as real as the smell of fresh cut roses.

I washed my hands and felt the cold water from the same sink I had felt many, many times. I wiped my tears in the midst of two worlds, and I realized just how deeply I had loved and that my memories had created a world which would forever exist outside of photographs and feelings. A world which would go beyond breath and seeing and float within a realm greater than the mind and heart, slipping deep into the spiritual.  This world is the one which walks beside me and helps shape the images for future memories. In this world I escape into myself and remember not days of old, but instead, relive within new experiences small segments of yesterday in the engagement of transcendent reality. Indeed, some memories are just that…a retained impression; whereas, others are truly lived in the blossoms of today. Some smiles, voices, and heartbeats within the air which carries our breath never grow into dusty memories despite the changing of time: they are our reality and our past.

I am thankful to realize alongside me are the moments which have created the twinkle in my eye, the freedom to find myself, the faith to persevere, the discernment to open my eyes, and the hopeful expectation of joy to truly embrace the present.

As I held hands with this notion and exited the restaurant, I realized "goodbye" was not the word left on my tongue; rather, "thank you" was my salutation. Thank you for always being with me, even still when life changes the year and the old roses are only in a photograph. I still smell them freshly every day with each bouquet I see.

This is the beauty of life and living.