The things I forgot at birth

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I'm reading your note over again.
There's not a word that I comprehend,
Except when you signed it
"I will love you always and forever."
-Screaming Infidelities- Dashboard Confessional

It's been said that we only use a mere 10% of our brain's capacity.

That's scary in an amazing way when you think about all the things stored in that 10%.

All the memories as far back as we can remember.

The good, the bad and the ones we really wish we could forget.

All the facts and numbers and figures and equations we learned in school.

All the names and faces of the people that have walked in and out of our lives.

The lyrics from a song we heard when we were seven.

Sometimes, we are so eager, so keen to remember, that we forget.

We forget the little things that makes life so precious.

The things I take for granted;

The smell of the dew on the grass in the morning.

The feel of the sand between my toes at the beach.

The taste of a hot fudge sundae.

The sound of water trickling down a tap.

The way the sunlight creeps into my room every morning.

The feel of the wind as it kisses my face.

The scent of my mum's hair when she hugs me before I leave for school.

The sound of my dad's rumbling laughter.

The twinkle in my sister's eyes when she wins an argument over me.

The tight hugs my grandma gives me everytime she sees me.

The half-smile Farhan throws my way everytime he says something so lame, its unbelievable.

The way Amsyar gurgles when I tell him he's cute.

The smiles, the laughter (be it a shared inside joke or simply laughing at myself) and good times with all my girlfriends

So many things that I take for granted.

The little things.

I swear it's getting harder to remember and I find myself constantly reminding my own self to treasure them.

If only life can be recorded like a movie, then all these little things that seem so insignificant yet mean so much, can be immortalized so we never ever forget.

I can't remember the last time I had chocolate that I swear I've forgotten what it tastes like.

And I can't remember that feeling that infiltrates my being everytime my late grandfather pulls me into his lap, puts his arms around me like a seatbelt and makes engine noises while I pretend I'm a Daytona race car driver.

For all the small, little and miniscule things in life.

*

Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn.