Contrails of memories from the plane of life

 

The majestic green of the forested hills, the dull blue of the sea that stretched to the horizon, and the glowing white-red palettes of short buildings basked in the setting sun. Such was the eye candy of the suburbs of western Izmir. Even then, the white cotton fluffs above me captured the two windows to my heart, floating gently amongst the sea of the sky, an expanse of greyish blue as its earthly counterpart. No matter how beautifully the earth was created, I've always enjoyed looking up at the heavens, which softly remind my soul of the vast possibilities in life.

Then, it appeared. A mere speck from here, a plane flying just above the cloud level. And what intrigued me were its contrails- those little lines of clouds didn't paint the sky for long like I'd often seen. Rather, like the trail of light from a moving sparkler firework, the contrails vanished not far behind the plane.

Recently a long-time friend talked to me about a shared memory from three years ago, but I could only humbly admit I'd forgotten what he was talking about. Important facts and figures still stuck in my mind, but not snippets of my daily life nor my feelings during the past. Perhaps I'd been dealing with problems too often nowadays. Or maybe this is a Divine Sign to memorize more of the Quran? Or is it... normal at this age? In any case, the contrails that are my memories seemed to be rather short. Is that a bad thing?

As the plane flew north, its left side lighted up by the orange glow of the setting sun, it occurred to me that plane had a destination. Just like our lives. Then, would we not reach our destination of the Hereafter better without warm memories tying us to this world?  Forgetting the past means being unattached to it, and the past is nothing but of this world.

Especially as a student living far away from family and old friends, being over-attached to my happy times I spent with them makes it harder to fulfill my objective here. Perhaps it would be best if I totally forgot all the feelings from my past, reducing my memories to nothing more than a photo album or diary, rather than experiences lived and felt. I know it sounds rather cold, but anyone who has lived away from their family and home for years can understand the pain of double nostalgia and homesickness, and thus sympathize with shortening the contrails of their memories.

But I'm willing to accept whatever Allah has put in store for my mind's store. He knows and will do what is best for me after all. However, if there is one thing we should never forget, it is that this world is temporary, a fleeting dream compared to the everlasting one that follows it.

Thinking this, I smiled as I watched the speck and its white tails disappear into the horizon, knowing wherever it was going, it would land at an airport. And as I turned my eyes away from the darkening sky, I knew wherever my life went, I would definitely meet with death.

Make that two things not to forget.