My memory has never been fantastic. While my friends seem to remember to the Times before Time began, I find myself struggling to remember what I ate for dinner last night or why I walked upstairs. However I have been told everyone does this.

But there are some times where I will suddenly get this wonderful feeling of Deja Vu.

Anything is a trigger, really. I could be walking home one day and the weather could just be so...perfect. It will remind me of...something. Something I can never grasp. Or I will meet someone and they will seem so much like someone I can't remember any longer. Anything, is a trigger to that mystical feeling.

I love that feeling, I live for that feeling.

For some reason, though, the most consistent trigger I have found is none other than sound. Or one particular series of sounds, to be precise. Canon, in D major.

This is the only elicitation that actually brings forth a memory.

Kindergarten.

The time of youth, innocence, and a disturbing amount of ignorance. You aren't really a person yet, just a human. You haven't developed true thoughts and feelings, ways to analyze others, worry about the future, or be attentive for more than five minutes. It is a time of bliss.
However, the only clear memory I have of this time is one where I was supposed to be sleeping. It was nap time, but I had the habit of never doing what I was told when I was told to do it. So, curled upon my blanket, I did just that. I looked at the opposite wall, knowing that my teacher was staring at my back. They had labeled me as a 'trouble maker' early on, I was later told by my mother.

I can't remember my teacher. There is no name, gender, hair style or teachings in my brain. The only thing I remember is that my teacher loved classical music.

And so do I.

At nap time, she would play it for us. It's funny, my teacher must have played us thousands of songs through the course of those 30 minutes every week, but the only song I remember is the aforementioned Canon.

Whenever I hear it's melody, I am transported back to that blanket on the floor of my classroom, sleeping students around me, the quiet hum of the air conditioning fighting the beats of my song.

It is magical, music.

There is really nothing to this story, just sharing some memories. Yet...

If you ever see a girl walking through a city or sitting on a bench, humming Canon in D major, maybe you should stop to chat. Who knows what she could be reminiscing.