I started reading a book recently that got me thinking. In the book, the man tries to write his life into a movie, and while doing so re-evaluates how he lives his life. The author mentions the idea of memory. Of how much we forget as we bustle about our hectic lives. How many small, insignificant moments get replaced so easily. He tells of his friend, who wrote down everything he could remember.
The point is not to dwell on the negatives or harp on the bad moments, just to notice. To take note. To pay attention. When it comes to remembering the good moments, the powerful moments, the life-changing moments, I think the idea of a memory list can be a really beautiful and powerful thing. And for those of you who’ve been following my blog for a while now, in particular the Daily Grind posts, you’ll know full well how much I love lists 🙂
Unless they’re to-do lists of course. Those things stink. Anyhoo…
Without further ado, I give you my memory list. Or well, a list of my memories, however fragmented, disconnected, or misunderstood they might seem to you. Mostly I remember bruises. Scars. Scrapes. Bumps. The injury list, I suppose you could say. But I regret not a single scratch. Each line, crease, bandaided, stinging wound tallied the mark of the best, most flawlessly fearless times of my life.
I remember the time I had to cut open my foot to draw sand from a wound. The moment was painful but the memory leading up to it was irreplaceable.
I remember the pound of the water as my body slammed slightly sideways into it after a 60 foot drop. The flattening of my breath. The suspense of time. The bruised days that followed.
I remember the swooshing suspension of the silence that rang in my ears as I held my breath below the crashing ocean waves. As I tumbled time and again from that small surf board I tried to call my own.
I remember how loud the ocean sounds except for those rare, brief half-spans of half-seconds when every sound, everywhere – the sand, the birds, the waves, your breath – goes completely silent and ceases for an infinitesimally small moment so easily missed.
I remember the sun setting over the beach of the impromptu futból match spewed across the black sand.
I remember the dance of the water moccasins as they slithered sideways through the water. As I watched them from the banks. Thankful that I paid attention to the no swimming signs for once.
I remember laying my head against his chest as we danced in the summer breeze. The only time we ever danced as anything more than just a joke.
I remember slamming my head on the table as I bawled from happiness after so many years of hurt. The first tears in so long that were plumbed by joy.
I remember the feeling of floating freely as I sailed through the air on the strength of my own legs and flew in front of the audience. Chest pounding, skirts flying as the sweat ran away from the hot stage lights overhead, running away down the creases of my skin.
I remember the smile on my dad’s face as his chest puffed with pride after my college graduation.
I remember the moment my mom and I had our first soul-deep conversation and how I cried after because it had been so long since we felt connected.
I remember the feel of my dog’s fur as he lay next to me all those long weeks after my surgery when I felt nothing else other than pain. The softness was all that offered comfort.
I remember yesterday, awakening from the fog of my work day to the glow of fireflies as they danced in the dusk above the wildflowers.
I remember running through the open fields of the Midwest plains during my childhood and it being the only time I ever truly felt free. Space everywhere and no end in sight.
I remember the day I bought my yellow bicycle, how afraid I felt when I first cycled around town, and how completely and utterly it transformed my life.
I remember the day I learned that good expectations can also be lived up to.
I remember how proud I felt when I finally became a big sister after so many years of hoping.
I remember the first time I ever really felt like myself and how rarely magnificent that can be.
I remember laying in the grass as the leaves danced shadows across the sun from the gnarled limbs of my ample shade. And how long it had been since I’d even noticed trees.
I remember being stranded on a log at high tide, as the water rushed around me and threatened to cast me into the raging sea below. I remember how time slowed and how lucky I felt to know that I had more of it left.
I remember the taste and squish of peaches as I sat on the riverbank with my sister and the juice dripped down our faces, our hands, our legs, and we just let it drip because it was summer and the peaches tasted so good and the juice cooled our scorching skin and soothed our dehydrated throats.
I remember the day I bought the bargain-kayak and life suddenly felt more open.
I remember running through the rain. Pretending I was a figure skater on my rollerblades. Spraining my ankle on the trampoline. Hiding under the fallen boughs of the willow tree during a winter snow storm. Wafting dandelions, the thrill of cycling down steep hills, the seriousness of my relationship with my first ever boyfriend in kindergarten because we rode the bus together daily and that meant commitment. The light patter of my first remembered puppy as it curled into my lap on the last day of spring all those years ago.
I remember so much. So many good things. So many bad things. So many sorrows, sights, smells, breaths, glimpses, dreams, reactions, nightmares, hugs, love, touches, glances. So many things I feel as thought my existence would explode from joyous disbelief if I ever remembered them all at once. So many things I have forgotten that this list forms only one tiny molecule of one greater whole, the pulsing throbbing intensity of the heartbeat of life.
If only such a small fragment of good can be remembered how much more must be out there?
In Search of the Great Perhaps 