Why do memories glow the way real moments don’t?

Today’s mess might be tomorrow’s magic.

It’s me and my sister when we were abroad, bored and really missing our brothers. But now, whenever I look at this picture, I remember all the laughs and silly moments we shared while taking these clicks.

Isn’t it funny how some of the best moments in life didn’t even feel special when they happened?

You know, when we look back at something so ordinary; a random walk, an evening with friends, a silly conversation at midnight, and suddenly, it feels golden. Almost magical. Like it wasn’t just a moment, it was the moment.

But when we were living it, it didn’t feel that way at all.
It was just another Tuesday. Just another walk. Just another laugh.

So why do memories glow in ways real moments don’t?

I think about the days when we were buried under uni assignments, eyes half open, mind running through deadlines, yet still somehow found ourselves laughing in between.

Or those late-night “group study” sessions. Where books stayed shut, and we spent hours talking about everything except the subject. Giggling over someone’s weird presentation, or swapping stories about that one classmate we all secretly judged (or crushed on). It didn’t feel golden then. It just felt chaotic, ordinary, and rushed.

Maybe real moments don’t glow because we’re too busy living them. Too caught up in how we look, what’s next, what’s missing. Too focused on finishing tasks, making it to class, passing the semester, and planning the next thing. We didn’t stop to notice the way someone’s eyes lit up while sharing a joke, or how comforting it felt to sit side by side doing nothing at all.

But memories? They hold on to those quiet details. They remember the warmth, not the rush. The laughter, not the pressure. They edit out the noise and keep the parts that matter.

So here’s what I’m learning:
Be a little more present. Take mental snapshots. Feel the air when you’re outside. Watch how your best friend laughs. Taste your tea slowly. Say what you mean. Hug tighter.

Because today’s mess might be tomorrow’s magic.

And the moments that feel too small now might just glow the brightest later.

Let’s not wait for nostalgia to tell us what mattered.