If you take a trip down Memory Lane, you will find that it’s lined with trees. Memory Lane is no ordinary lane. It doesn’t appear to be man-made (normal lanes are characterised by artificial, obnoxiously green-leaved trees that have almost the exact same amount of space between them, the kind us humans obsess over and use meticulous precision to make). Memory Lane is raw. Natural. The trees grow wherever they want to, completely indifferent to the miles or inches of space between them. They aren’t fake and bright and perfect, like how the real world likes their trees. Memory Lane’s trees come in all different shapes and sizes. Some are small, some are big, and some hover in the middle. There is no “average”, because every tree is unique. The word “average” is defined by something a lot of people do or have, something that is universally agreed upon. The trees on Memory Lane don’t have an average because not one tree looks even remotely similar to the next. But as you walk down Memory Lane, you’ll find that not every tree is healthy. Some trees will look so green and shiny that they fit the real world’s criteria of a “perfect” tree completely, without any effort. Some trees will seem healthy enough. But some will look like they’re barely surviving, balancing precariously on their trunks, as if they’ll fall at any moment. They might have sap oozing from their bark, branches bare, even if it’s summer. You might think these trees are the worst you’ve seen, but they aren’t. Some will be mere stumps, chopped from what once was. As you’re making your way down Memory Lane, you might begin to realise what these trees really are. They’re memories, each one symbolising a person’s past, their experiences, and what made them the person they are today. When you see the shimmering, almost perfect looking trees, smile for the person whom that tree belongs to, thanking the universe that for the most part, they have enjoyable, fun-filled memories to look back on. When you see the moderate, relatively healthy-looking trees, maintain a calm expression, and give your apologies for the person to whom that tree belongs (in your head), for the memories that made that tree a little less lively than the previous one. And when you come across a dying tree, pray that the person to whom the tree belongs doesn’t have to go through anything more than they already have, and pray that their more recent memories will soon make this tree healthier again. When you see a stump, there’s not much you can do. But what you can do is acknowledge that person’s life and efforts, knowing that even if they’re gone, they must have found a sense of peace at some point during their life, however fleeting it was. And as you continue on, know that you will never reach the end. Memory Lane has no end. It is forever, constantly stretching on and on, until you break off from the past and move on, only to repeat the cycle of recollection another day.