I was meditating this morning and old memories kept hitting me. It was like some floodgate had been opened and events I hadn’t thought about in a long time began making their way back.

The time I verified death on a person who had just died; their body was still warm.

The time I watched a movie with my school friends and we were the only ones in the cinema; the three of us put our feet up on the row in front, delighted at our freedom.

The time I sent a Valentine’s letter – to the wrong address.

The time I got lost in a supermarket and couldn’t find my dad, and began to cry until a balding man ushered me to the front counter and they called on the speaker, “Quan, please come to aisle 3 where your son is” and in a flash, he appeared, holding a new fishing rod.

The time I kicked a goal in year 7 soccer from midfield; the ball soared so high, and seemed to float in the air, slowing down time and deafening all noise, until it went right over the goalkeeper’s head and into the net, and how I jumped and yelled and my teammates surrounded me doing the same.

And so many more.

I think memories are like fireflies, in a way. Floating around in our subconscious waiting to be caught. Only we are often too distracted; too angry; too busy worshipping our gods to pay attention.