Comfort Has a Short Memory
Some days ago, I was standing in line to make a payment at a store, and there was a young lady in front of me with a few items to pay for.
She asked for the items to be split into two different receipts, presumably because she had been sent by two different people. But that wasn’t what fascinated me. She knew exactly how much the items on both receipts cost and paid for them in cash without collecting any change.
I was fascinated by the scene, and I remember asking myself, “Do people still go to stores knowing exactly how much everything they want to buy would cost?” It felt both interesting and strange to me until I had a flashback.
Many years ago, my sister and I had gone shopping at Shoprite in Ilorin. We were both students and were therefore on a tight budget. As much as Shoprite had a variety of options and many things we would have loved to buy, I remember us carefully picking out only the items we could afford after checking the price tags and doing mental calculations to ensure we were still within budget.
Perhaps because I felt uncomfortable about the fact that we couldn’t just buy anything we wanted without constantly checking price tags and doing mental calculations, I impulsively made a declaration of faith to my sister, saying, “One day, we’ll go shopping without having to worry about price tags.”
There I was, in another store many years later, not rich, but comfortable enough to buy essential items without worrying too much about the prices. Yet, for a moment, it felt strange witnessing an experience that mirrored exactly where I had once been.
That experience made me realize that comfort has a short memory. You can become so comfortable with your present reality within a short period that the memory of your journey gradually fades away, and you forget where you came from.
I have always been of the opinion that people who were born into wealth are often more respectful and less condescending than those who grew into it or stumbled upon it. Ironically, you would expect the latter to be more empathetic and understanding because they should be able to relate to the experiences of those who are currently where they once were. Yet, what you often find is the opposite.
There is sometimes a sense of condescension and disdain toward people who are where they used to be, as though seeing them reminds them of memories they would rather forget. Others begin to believe that people who have not “broken through” are simply lazy, forgetting the role time and chance played in changing their own stories.
Dear friends, it is always our hope to have a better life than the one we once had, and many of us are already entering a phase where things are beginning to change for the better. Let this serve as a reminder not to lose sight of where you came from, because remembering your journey will make you more empathetic toward those who are still in their process.
When driving your car in the rain, would you be kind enough to remember your days of trekking, when a vehicle splashed water on your clothes simply because the driver was not considerate enough to slow down for pedestrians by the roadside? You either drive consciously because you remember you were once there, or you become so consumed by your new reality that you forget there are still people where you used to be.
As life gets better for us, may we never become strangers to the memories of our own journey. The true proof of growth is not merely that your circumstances changed, but that your heart remained soft toward those still walking paths you once walked yourself.
May success never erase our memory, and may comfort never rob us of compassion.