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I’ve been having a lot of memories pop up recently. They seem to arise from many sources: a familiar aroma, something seen on TV or in a magazine or on the internet, a familiar word, a book I might come across….these memories just spring out of seemingly no where.

I know that when my parents got “old”, they would often tell me stories from their past. I loved hearing those stories and the more I heard of them, the more I encouraged them to write them down for perpetuity and to share with their grandchildren.

They did not write them down and now I see that their memories were to them, just stories from the past. Nothing particularly special to write down, just memories that were dear to them in some way.

I guess I am “old” now and wonder what to do with these memories that float up. Bits and pieces of my past appear for review and I either laugh or wince at them. Most of them are good, in a soothing sort of way. I’m wondering if they help pave the way to our exit from this life.

I love remembering little snippets of my life that made me happy: my first view of the Rocky Mountains and the amazement I felt. How my Dad would pick me up at day camp all dirty and sweaty and take me to get an ice cream, mostly for HIS sweet tooth but I did not resist in the least! How I loved walking to and from school twice a day and played endless games with myself going and coming. Creating great snow caves to play house in with my dog. Running through the woods on a summer’s day to get to the meadow to lie on my back and watch the clouds, making stories up as I watched them move across the sky. Going to the movies for 25 cents on a cold Saturday afternoon and watching the cartoons and newsreels before the main show. Seeing the nuns emerge from our Catholic Church and wishing I were Catholic so I could be one of them. Observing the girls from our local University and imagining what I would do and be when I became one of them. Our pink bathroom that I shared with my two sisters and how I used to love to go through my older sister’s makeup to see all the gorgeous colors of nail polish and lipsticks. Even better was looking at my Mom’s Makeup and imagining how fun it would be to play with it. Roller skating, climbing the apple trees, playing kick the can with neighbor kids until it was almost too dark to see.

You see, I have been busy remembering. I really am wondering why all these memories are all of a sudden appearing. There are tons more. Just snippets of a life that I barely relate to any more. That young girl is long gone but still some where within. I want to tell her things and share things with her. I want to tell her that no matter what, she mustn’t loose herself in the whirlwind of life. I want to tell her that if she has patience and perseverance, that things will work out. I want to tell her to focus more on her heart and less on the comments that others make about her. And so much more.

I’m wondering why the memories? Is this like my life flashing before me before I die? Or is it my life in review TO review. To take stock of what I’ve done well, and what I could have done better at? To see how far I’ve come and how far I have to go?

Whatever the reason, I am enjoying these snippets as they appear. And I’ll take them as gifts from a past long gone but one that affects me to this very minute. I am after all the sum total of that life. Mistakes, triumphs, secrets, friends, teachers, activities, and all else. A quiet rather mundane life, but my life. Memories and all.

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