Time flows quietly like water. We are immersed in the river called "now", and those past times, like pebbles scattered on the riverbed, are rounded and smooth by the flowing water of time. Every time I pick one up, there is a faint smell that spreads in my heart, which is the taste of memory.
I often open the mottled old door and enter the corridor of memories in the middle of the afternoon or in the dead of night. The walls are filled with images of the past, each one exuding a familiar vibe. It was the laughter of childhood, the blood of youth, and those heart-warming fragments, which were intertwined and formed the pattern of my life.
The taste of memories is the smell of food wafting from Mom's kitchen. It was a bowl of braised pork stewed softly and glutinously, a plate of fried green vegetables, and a hot soy milk fritters from morning to morning. These flavors, no matter where I go, I can always find the taste of home in the depths of my memory, warm and down-to-earth.
The taste of memories is the sweetness and bitterness of first love. At that time, we were so simple and passionate. A casual word, an unintentional touch, can make the heart beat faster and the cheeks red. In those youthful days, we tasted the first taste of love, which was like ice cream in summer, cool with a hint of melting.
The taste of memories is the frustration and tears on the road to growth. Not every effort pays off, and not every dream can be realized. We have stumbled in defeat and wept in despair. But it is the saltiness of these tears that makes us learn to be strong and makes us understand that life is not only sweet, but also bitter.
The taste of memories is the melancholy of parting. There are so many encounters and separations in life, some people come and go, and some stories begin but never end. We stood on the platform of the station, watching the backs of our relatives gradually drift away, and the reluctance and attachment, like fallen leaves in the autumn wind, gently fell into the heart lake, causing a circle of ripples.
The taste of memories is the joy of success. When we climb the peak in the journey of life, when we harvest the fruits in the years of struggle, the sense of accomplishment is like the warm sun in winter, illuminating our hearts. We laugh, we embrace, we find our own value and meaning in this light.
Everyone's memories have different flavors, they can be sweet or bitter, sour or spicy. But without exception, these flavors together make up our life experience and become an integral part of who we are. They are our stories, our history, our souls.
In this long journey of life, we are all travelers who collect memories. We can't stay in any one moment, but we can keep those good, sad, and ordinary days in our hearts. As the years pass and we open the dusty photo album, the taste of those memories will emerge again, taking us back to those moments through time and space.
Maybe one day, we will all grow old, but in the long river of memories, the taste of those memories will never disappear. They will be like ancient perfumes, eternally emitting our own fragrance. Let's smile in the aftertaste, move forward in the emotion, and continue to create more memories worth remembering.