Memories and Mourning

  I've been thinking about my childhood lately. While it feels like I've aged as many years as I've been alive, and therefore I feel as though time hasn't gone by too fast, it's also strange to see myself so vividly in memories that started so long ago. Though 22 is a young number and I feel as though time hasn't gone too fast, sometimes I can't believe that I'm an adult. And truthfully I don't know how I can feel both really old for my age, really mature, possessing an old soul, and then childishly young. Perhaps that is why I'm so tender hearted, because the important things in my life seem so new. I often look at my recent accomplishments and achievements as though I'm looking through a child's large doe-eyes, open wide in amazement at the new things in life. And truthfully, I hope I never lose that sense of wonder. Often people have called me naive, and I am, but I think there is a certain beauty that comes along with that. I think hope is easier to come by and optimism comes daily and there are more surprises with naivete. It is not so easy to take things for granted with naivete and when things go well it is surprisingly pleasant. 

   Why do I bring this up? I don't know. I guess it's because when I look back at my childhood, most of it, especially the kindergarten and first few grade levels, I was blissfully happy. This is not to say that sad things didn't happen or that I didn't have rough days on the playground and in school, because I did. But, on the days that I was on the swings or with my mom on a day that she picked me up early from school and took me to the museum, I was so completely happy. In these moments everything I wanted was there and the simplest things fulfilled me with happiness. I was so enveloped in the moment and at that time my mind had a harder time wandering to an anxiety-filled future like it so easily does now. 

    I tear up, and don't really know why when I can see myself so vividly, almost like an out of body experience on the playground. I remember that the sky is greyish and overcast and the leaves are brown and slightly crunchy under-foot. I have my fingers entwined in the cyclone fence that separates the school yard from the street. My nose is pushed up to the metal and I am waiting for my mom to come and pick me up. I remember looking over at the rabbit hutch that I'm pretty sure sits vacant (this is the only part of the memory I don't know for sure is accurate). I can't describe it because so much of this memory is intangible. It's a memory emotion; the memory is nostalgic to me because it triggers an emotion that touches me. It is the feeling, not the memory or detail itself that matters. 

   This memory dates back to fall or winter in Los Angeles and I can tell this by the sky and the wind that blows across my face and the fence. I hold this dear because it is at this moment that I am at a threshold, waiting to go home and see mom, who often looks happy to see me. I remember I used to love smelling her and feeling her hand rub my back in comforting circles as she looked at me. She always had this wonderful way of saying "hi sweetie," and I still love hearing her say that, as much as she loves hearing me say "hi mom" in my squeaky voice. Though there was a forlorn feeling to my waiting for mom, there was also an exciting feeling too, because every moment before mom came to pick me up I had time to swing, which was my favorite thing to do. All I had to do in between that time was to swing and wait for mom, nothing else to do. 

    If only things were that simple now. Though time passes, something I'm too acutely aware of, I am happy that my memory-emotions remain as vibrant.

     

    I want to dedicate this post to a colleague of mine. She lost her best friend over the last few days. To an extent I can sympathize with her because I have a great imagination and I can imagine what that would feel like, if I ever lost Anne. Heartbroken would not even touch the surface of what I would feel. So Jodie, this is for you. I am so sorry and I hope you find comfort in these difficult times. I won't tell you that time heals all wounds because I know it doesn't feel that way right now. But I can guarantee you that when you love someone as much as you did your friend, death doesn't end your relationship, it just changes it. Your contact with that person never ends and she will always be a part of you. My thoughts are with you.