Memento

I'm home, with this uncomfortable pain in my neck. I had a car accident yesterday. Nothing serious, but uncomfortable. I've had time to watch the interesting ceiling and to look back. I'm downloading '74, '75, a song I used to hear a lot when I was in Italy. That was a long time ago, nine years have passed since that. But today, it seems to be so recent. Like the man that sleeps frozen during 40 years, and then, he just wakes up, waiting for the world to be the same one he left.
A gate is open, with no warning, with no announcement. I just pushed it a little, and it showed me a room filled for years with memories. The healing process has ended, I almost say. Now I can enter the room and take a good look at my past. I see the snow outside my window, I can see my bed, even the first night at Alvito, that small town near Rome. I remember! At last!
I've heard once that a friend of my sister, wasn't able to remember her childhood, and I just thought that it had to be pretty hard for her. But I never saw that coming for me. I've spent the last nine years rebuilding myself, and maybe the brain focused all it's energy in that task, shooting down the lights from the rest of the rooms.
But now I'm back, for good.