(Lakatos, “Gypsy Song”)

A writer’s memory is like a treasure chest. We save and cherish all our dreams and hopes, our fears suppressed, the people we love or hate, and store them away for the day we wish them out, like Aladdin with his magic lamp. In my treasure chest, weathered by life, I have taken out bits and pieces one by one to color this story with my heart. Sometimes memory plays a game with me, or I play a game with memory, and what was once a tangible thread of my life becomes a mere abstraction. It’s a metamorphosis, no different than what a surreal painter does with the rendering of reality. As a writer I have used time and memory as a brush for truth.

Unconsciously as I was writing “The Gift of Diamonds,” I reached into my memory’s treasure chest and found scenes from afar that came to me without pattern or reason.
And I grabbed them, not to lose them, and without realizing how, each item became a scene and turned into a world of its very own. Strangely, the scenes and people took different form until they hardly resembled the original at all. But it was far too late. They had already taken shape in my mind and on paper. I marveled at it all and wondered if the imagined is far better than the real.

I will let you decide as we travel together on this trip through time if the scenes from this Back History resemble the Front Story at all. It will be fun for both of us as I share with you how I fused memory and truth with Fiction to write “The Gift of Diamonds.”

The following scenes happened to me. By twisting them I have reshaped them for Mica’s world.