Living memories

Me and my son Chris in 1962

Lately I've been thinking about all the memories I carry around in my head, a whole lifetime of them. So much has happened to me in my life that I think I've completely forgotten, until something jars an old memory and I think about the many different lives I've lived. I was once long ago the mother of a fine son who gave me endless joy. The young woman in the picture has changed into an old woman, and the baby grew into a man.

So many memories surface when I gaze at old pictures like this one. We were in Puerto Rico, where my first husband, who took the picture, was stationed. It was a sunny day, but then again almost all the days were sunny. I was a happy person, and it shows in the picture. I recognize that blouse from my memories; I sewed it myself, from a pattern. Back then I made a lot of my own clothing, something I haven't even thought of for a long time.

I'm not sure why I've been thinking lately about times past, people long gone, and decades of life lived and forgotten. Perhaps it has something to do with a book I just finished reading: What Alice Forgot by Liane Moriarty. In the story, Alice hits her head and loses a decade of her memory. She wakes up and thinks she is twenty-nine and pregnant with her first child, only to discover that she is thirty-nine, has three children and is getting a divorce. The book reminded me of how much we change in ten years, as well as the crucial part memory plays in our current existence.

Then on Friday I went into an ice cream shop while waiting for my yoga class to begin. I indulged in one of my favorite things, ice cream, while sitting next to a young man with his daughter. She is four and very outgoing. I watched her eat an enormous sugary fried fritter while her dad scrolled through his phone. I asked her how old she is and whether she knows her ABCs. Promptly she recited them to me, and it brought back a memory of raising my own child. The three of us started a conversation and I learned not only her age, but that the family recently expanded to include an infant. Dad was taking care of his lively daughter so that Mom could have some quiet time.

Since Chris died without having a child of his own, I will never have grandchildren. I appreciate the stories of them that my fellow bloggers share in their posts, and look at their pictures and remember my own days as a young mother. Sometimes the memory of a smile comes unbidden to my mind and I can almost feel the moment return. The joy of children laughing never stops being a delightful memory. The little girl I met the other day, with her wide-eyed chatter about her new baby brother, gave me a little twinge of regret about lacking grandchildren. But that's silly: the little girl shared her life with me and has given me the gift of remembered childhood. It's everywhere around me. Just because I don't have any grandchildren myself doesn't mean I miss the chance to enjoy the company of young people. And I truly enjoy the pictures and stories about the grandchildren of many of my blogging buddies.

When I think about it, if my son had fathered a child at the same age that I had him, that child would now be grown, too. Great-grandchildren and even great-great grandchildren would be more like it. Wow! How time flies when I'm not paying attention; then something happens to remind me of how long ago it was that I was a young mother myself. That young mother still is a part of me, however long ago it happened. My activities these days don't give me much chance to be around small children.

I have a coffee shop friend, Leo, who was not even a year old when I first met him. We played together in the coffee shop, he let me read to him and we enjoyed each other's company. But Leo grew up, too: now he is almost ten and no longer plays with me but instead sits and reads his own books, sometimes not even acknowledging me other than a polite hello. It makes me a little sad, but when I look at the young man he's becoming, I realize that it is the natural progression of life. I enjoyed the toddler much more than I would enjoy hanging out with the young man he's becoming today.

Instead, I'll hang out with friends my own age, John the farmer and Gene the fisherman. We'll have our devices in front of us and share funny things with each other that we find on Facebook. As I age, they are aging along with me, and the years pass without that much difference. When you're young, change from year to year is much more pronounced. I look forward to being with them several times a week. John will be getting up soon and going off to the coffee shop. He's the first to arrive. On Sunday mornings, we share a bagel, something I want but not the whole thing. He will have already had one himself, so he gets three half bagels and I get one, which is perfect for both of us. And a quote from Helen Keller to wrap up this post:

So long as the memory of certain beloved friends lives in my heart, I shall say that life is good. 

Yes, life is good. I have so many memories to cherish, and I'm glad I can share them with you, my dear reader. It's almost time for me to get up and start the rest of my Sunday. Partner is still sleeping next to me, and I can feel the growing desire to get off to visit my friends. I hope you will be here again next week, when I'll sit with my laptop and think about a lovely week ahead for us. Be well until then.