Mona Lisa

When I lay down in my bed at night, I can see right out my window. The sky is usually cloudy but it’s sometimes clear. When it is, the night is polka-dotted with millions of twinkling stars, all winking, all whispering… It’s beautiful when I can see the moon, mother of the night sky. Anyways, when I’m lying in my bed, staring out the window, thoughts racing through my mind… I wonder if anyone’s missing me. I ponder the thought that maybe, somewhere, someone is thinking of me. I waunder through my memories, searching for one that catches my attention and holds its tightly. When I find one, I discover how much I miss home.

Sometimes, it is of a time of happiness and funniness. The stupidity is so hilarious that I cannot help but laugh. My laugh starts as a mere ‘heh…’ and grows as the memory nurtures it, bursting forth like a phoenix. It soars across the ocean, across the states, and into Magnolia, Texas, where my heart is. 

At other times, the memory is something seriously nostalgic and I smile wistfully to myself. If people could see that smile, they could wonder about it. They could dwell on my Mona Lisa smile until they are blue in the face. But never will they unlock the mystery. Never will people see clearly the reason.

This is the miracle of memories, as I call it. In life, one collects memories, like a bird collects twigs for it’s nest. They become something of value. They can share them or lock them away in their heart. Memories are precious, like a newborn baby. They can’t be bought or sold. They are almost too lovely to hold.

Memories… The secret behind my Mona Lisa smile.