Memories...

There are times that I remember. It’s funny how little things happen or someone mentions something and memories that have been forgotten come flooding back. It doesn’t always have to be a spoken word that brings the memories back. A flower on the side of the road, a bird chirping or even a smell can suddenly make these memories appear. Not all memories are pleasant and not all are unpleasant. Some memories are wonderful and sweet. Some are hard to think about. Rather good or bad, these memories and the experience from the memories are what makes me the person that I am.
I’ve been told (by a few people) that I should write a book about my life. I don’t believe I am qualified to write a book but I have given some thought to simply writing about some of my memories.
My granddaughter’s were swimming in the pool a couple of weeks ago and the youngest, Kylee walked around the edge of the pool and called “Daddy!” I was sitting in a chair beside my daughter Kayli and daughter-in-law Kim. I smiled and said to Kim, “Don’t you know this pool looks huge to her little eyes?” “Remember when you were little and everything looked really big and when you grew up, they looked almost small?” Kim agreed with me and we continued watching the babies in the pool with Nathan.
Sitting there, my mind went back to my grandmother’s home. I remembered the rooms and how big they were back then. I remembered running barefoot through the rooms with my aunt Carol, who is eight months older than me. My grandfather yelling “ Hea’h, Ya’ll stop that now!“ and the two of us giggling and running faster from room to room. To me that house was grand. After growing up, I realized it really wasn’t that big at all. Six rooms and a bathroom but it had been the hub of my life.
A few minutes passed and Kylee was jumping into the pool to her Daddy. Kennedie was yelling “Look Mee-Maw! Watch me!” with Kamberlyn chiming in after her. Watching them so carefree and happy was a new memory forming for later years when they are all grown up and aren’t concerned with their Mee-Maw watching them. Sweet memories that I will hold dear.
These new memories help me push the memory of my own father standing on the bank of an old muddy pond, holding me and telling me that he was going to throw me in and that it was the best way for me to learn how to swim. I was about three years old and terrified. In my short life I had learned that this man could be mean. I had learned to stay away from him but, that wasn’t always possible. He didn’t throw me in but, he did manage to frighten me nearly to death. He placed a memory in my mind that has never gone away, nearly fifty years later. I can remember thinking “Where is my mother?” and praying to God to please let her come and get me. Yes I knew how to pray even at the young age of three. Prayer was my refuge. It still is.
Some may wonder why I would write about this unpleasant memory after writing about the good ones.
It is these unpleasant memories that make the good ones all the better.
They make me really appreciate the fact that my son is a loving father and his children call “Daddy” to him to get his attention. They make me really appreciate the fact that my granddaughters are carefree and happy children.
The pool memory put a deep rooted determination in me to do things on my own. To learn how to swim alone and without the ‘help’ or command of anyone else.
Memories are powerful things.

I plan to write more about my memories later…