Memories. They define our lives, make each of us unique, and they tell our story whenever we choose to hear it.
I am fascinated by the way our minds work. My long-term memory seems to have improved with age, while my short term has progressively declined. Specifically, I remember my second grade teacher’s name and most of my classmates, but not what I cooked for dinner three days ago.
Maybe it’s because as you get older, you recall these distant memories that connect you to your past and serve to give meaning and clarity to your present. As the old saying goes, you need to know where you came from to know where you are going. Our fervent pasts are so rich with memories ranging from a millisecond encounter with a stranger to what seemed like an eternity waiting for the birth of your first grandchild.
I remember as a toddler, probably one of my first memories, feeling so safe and comfy in my mom’s arms as she rocked me to sleep.
I remember crying in kindergarten because I wanted to go home, and nobody comforted me.
I remember using a fork to seal the homemade meat ravioli at my grandmother’s house on a Sunday.
I remember winning second place in an essay contest in fifth grade.
I remember breaking out in hives on Christmas Eve for the first time because I was allergic to shellfish.
I remember when I was a size four and thought my hips looked too big!
I remember cashing my first paycheck.
I remember a total stranger helping me put the groceries in my car when I was nine months pregnant with my fourth child.
There are these random, seemingly trivial moments, but for some reason, they stick with you and take up a tiny bit of room in your memory, flickering occasionally.
And then there’s the truly momentous, “take your breath away” kind of memories you recall.
I remember walking down the aisle with my dad on my wedding day, feeling so excited, so happy to be marrying the love of my life.
I remember giving birth to my first baby and thinking nothing could beat this crazy euphoric feeling of holding a precious miracle in your arms. I remember replaying the whole labor and delivery experience in my mind for weeks, mesmerized by what had happened.
I remember giving birth to three more children, still feeling the extreme euphoria, committing to memory every detail. I was blessed over and over!
I remember standing by my dad’s bedside, surrounded by all the people he and I cherished, watching him take his last breath. I remember acting stoic and not realizing the enormity of the moment until many weeks later.
I remember watching my firstborn grandchild come into the world, hearing that angelic first cry, knowing I had never felt such privilege like this before until I was witness to my second grandson being born. I didn’t know life could be so sweet and still so precious again, except this time feeling nothing but pride and sheer joy!
Years ago, I remember a very good friend telling me that sometimes it’s best and much better to take in the moment and not memorialize it by taking a photo or video, especially lately because it’s so simple and tempting to do.
