Magic Button

It’s funny how something like a smell or place or even a person can transport you back in time. How a certain smell can flash a memory from long ago you have to blink to be back in the present. I can’t wear perfume, but I have a bottle on my dresser. The perfume was the one my grandmother wore and every once in a while if I need a reminder I’ll spritz some in the air.

Facebook now logs memories from each day in previous years and shows you pictures and posts. Some of these memories are happy and funny, some I have no clue what they mean anymore or what I was referencing. Some are sad. Some send me down a rabbit hole. The rabbit hole of trying to remember the people and places and what was going on in that moment.

Trying to remember the 18 year old girl about it head to college. Trying to remember all the moving pieces and people during that strange time of my life. The no longer a girl, certainly not a woman, leaving her hometown and all she had known for a “big city” and endless opportunities and her chance to express her true self. I don’t remember a lot of it, but I think that’s normal. I remember certain things with such detail, even down to how I was feeling in that moment. Then there are others that I don’t recall at all if someone mentions it. What if there was a magic button that we could press that would transport us back to that moment and feeling?

The magic button could only be used for one moment or feeling. It can only be used once and then it is gone forever. But you could use the button as many times as you wish after you push it but only that one moment or feeling would be your experience. There would be time limits as well. You can only press the button 4 times a year. And the button will only work during that one press for 4 days to be able to see or feel. Would you want this magic button? Would you press the magic button? If you press the magic button, what moment and feeling are you selecting? Would you tell anyone what you picked? Would it be your secret? How would you feel if you were able to know if you were part of someone else’s moment or feeling? Would you want to know? Would you keep it to yourself or tell others?

I think if we could filter on a feeling or subject or place that I would want to know. This way I have some control of knowing what others are selecting that I might be involved. There should also be a block feature so you could control if you allow people to know if that are in your selection. If all of this could be in place, I’d want the button. I would also use the button. I know the exact moment and feeling I would want to relive the rest of my life. Do you?

“Any writer worth his salt writes to please himself…It’s a self-exploratory operation that is endless. An exorcism of not necessarily his demon, but of his divine discontent.” – Harper Lee

I have always enjoyed writing – no shocker there, I have a blog that isn’t travel or recipe based. I go back and forth on writing opinion, real life and fiction. This is the most vulnerable I have felt on post. This is not my opinion or life, it is a story created out of thin air. I love reading and when writing it is fun going between reality and fiction.

The below is a very, very rough draft of a FICTION piece that I have been writing on and off for a while. Since I have a blog now, I decided to share just a little excerpt of something completely different! I hope you enjoy it.

After weeks of wearing her down – basically being a pain in her ass, she finally caved and agreed to meet Catherine’s college friend. Catherine had been her first friend when she moved to the city. They were neighbors and bonded quickly over their love of dogs, wine and fried food. Catherine was obsessed with the idea of fairy tales, all things magical and mystical, which was the exact opposite of Evie. All she knew from Catherine about Kade was that they were best friends in college, he was a bit of a pretty boy and was fairly high up in some business she couldn’t remember anything about. Catherine had arranged the entire night, she didn’t even give her his number. She knew Evelyn would come up with an excuse to back out if she had and knew being southern she couldn’t leave him without an excuse. How did she let her best friend talk her into this?

Downing the last bit of her white wine, Eve steadied her gaze and regained her courage. The glow from the illuminated bar top provided a much needed light for the dark room. Looking around, she took in the quaint place. It was actually quite nice, not too loud but enough of a buzz so that others couldn’t hear private conversations. The exposed brick walls and hardwood floors reminded her of New Orleans. How many years had it been since her last visit? Too many to count and she couldn’t walk out now on this blind date to hop a plane anyway.

It was 6:25 and they had agreed to meet for drinks at 6:30. Knowing she would need some liquid courage to get through this “date”, she arrived at the bar thirty minutes early. Patience was not her greatest virtue. After waiting for what seemed like forever, she checked the time on her phone again, 6:27. How had only two minutes passed since the last time she checked?!

Trying to get the bartender’s attention for another glass, she saw him. Her eyes bugged and she had to catch her jaw from dropping. Tall, dark and handsome didn’t even begin to describe the man that was looking right at her. His hair was dark and short, not in a military style cut, but long enough to muss up with his fingers. As he got closer she could feel his gaze settle on her, his green eyes burning a hole into her soul. Knowing he would tower over her even in her heels, she clumsily slid off the bar stool for introductions. Damn Catherine, she never mentioned he could make a Nun question her vow…..

Breathe. In and out. In and out. Just breathe. Should be a simple thing to do, breathing. It is after all an involuntary action, but between the tightness in her chest and the clenching of her throat, Evelyn could barely remember how to do it, how to breathe. Why was she so anxious?

Emma Yonke

The above is a work of fiction. Any names or scenarios that resemble real life are coincidence.

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