Memories

I was lazy yesterday and didn't get around to posting. So, you'll have to deal with two posts from me today. The next request on the list of photos is a picture of your favorite memory.


Here it is with the favorites again. If you ask me my favorite anything, you'll probably get a different answer depending on the day of the week, time of day and general mood. And no, if you ask me my favorite dessert (as opposed to deserts, that’s a totally different story) it will not always be "chocolate!" I love too many other desserts that don't have a trace of chocolate in them. I guess I just have a hard time differentiating between liking something and really loving it as a favorite.
So, today (well, yesterday really) I was asked for a picture of my favorite memory. Again, is this supposed to be my favorite memory EVER (that’s a pretty good number of days at this point), this decade, year, or hour?

There’s my favorite memory from school (again, high school, middle or elementary?) which would probably be either that warm glow of memories I have from Earhart Environmental Complex, or my stream study or Wallops Island trip in high school.

There’s my favorite memory from Girl Scouts, which I’m pretty sure I covered last time, or maybe it’s when I met Kat since that was a Girl Scout trip, or maybe it was the first camping trips I took with my original Brownie troop in Kansas.

There’s my favorite summer memory, which seems to be a whole bunch of things all rolled into one. That would be all the time spent on the beach and in Rehoboth and at Gram’s summer house and with all her friends and "family". Those were really wonderful days.  (On a side note, why can't summers feel that long as adults?  They're just too short these days!)

I'm not sure what my favorite family vacation memory would be.  I have hazy memories of a couple of trips, but the one I reacall the most clearly is the feel of the cold hard-wood floor on my bare feet when I would get up in the mornings when we went to New Mexico.  I've also got other memories from that trip as well, like my father sitting on a cactus and having to cary my brother across a stream at the end of a hike we were on.

My favorite memory this winter has to be going sledding with the family at Kat’s house. We all had a great time and Boo is old enough to really enjoy the snow now.

My favorite memory from Oklahoma is when I went out to lunch with Jim Brockman (and maybe Tenney?) to the cheap Chinese place and I met my husband and the two tall guys played “keep away” with my hat. I don’t think I laughed that hard any other time when I was out there.

But, I’d have to say my favorite memory from the last few years has to be of seeing my wonderful husband hold our wonderful son for the first time. It was exciting and scary and happy all at once. It was an ending of being a couple and the beginning of being a family. There was so much ahead of us, and there still is, on this roller coaster ride called parenthood. The tenderness (and probably sheer terror) that Gak showed as he stood there, holding our son, our miracle, was amazing. It was in that one moment that he really became a dad; it cemented it all into the realm of the real, not just the surreal.

Of course, all the memories together that lead up to that memory are just as important, just as vital. Our wedding, the travel, the trying to make ends meet and trying to figure out how this whole roller coaster works are all important. (I, at any rate, still don’t understand how this roller coaster works, but I’m loving the ride, so I’m OK with that.)



There are all kinds of other wonderful memories that bounce around my head and make me smile. But, I really can’t pinpoint one above the others as the end all, be all favorite. Without any one of them, my life would be so much less.



Of course, this whole discussion of memory makes me cringe and worry a bit. It also makes me a little sad. It makes me sad because I watch, from afar, my dad as his memory slowly, and not so slowly, betrays him. I cringe and worry because if I think about it too hard, the what-ifs start circling through my head. Both about Dad’s past and my future. Therefore, I tend to just push it all aside, live in the moment like I’m so good at doing and just treasure what I do have. It still eats at me every time we go visit my parents. I still wonder each and every time what memories my son will have of his only living grandfather, since we lost Gak’s dad before Boo was born. But, all that does is bread worry and ulcers, two things I really don’t need. So, I push it aside, promising to deal with it later. I don’t want to, but I will have to. I just hope I have a very, very long time before I really have to worry.



I’m going to wrap this up here with the thought that memories are both precious and tenuous. Treasure them all and share them frequently. You also never know when sharing one of your favorite memories will bring light to someone’s day who thought you forgot or didn’t care.



Peace to you all and may your memories be happy and sound.