I’m always surprised by people’s ability to remember things from years past, especially things that weren’t, by any means, out of the ordinary or remarkable in any way.
Things like a casual encounter, something that was said or an outfit you wore. How do they remember these mundane details from 10, 15, 20 years ago? Do they have larger memory banks than I? Am I a terrible data collector? Do I not organize them well? Who can I speak to in the memory department to get this thing sorted out?
Honestly, I’m not sure how my brain decides what to remember and what not to remember. So I try my best to remember to write down the things I wish to remember.
In my journal there are notes of things to remember, like a funny thing my daughter said:
“I want a hot dog costume. Will you get me a hot dog costume?”
“A hot dog? Why?”
“Because I love them. No, I don’t. Yes, I do.” She argued with herself before delivering the punchline. “But vegans will be like, ‘No candy for you.'”
Or a line from one of my favorite movies, Something’s Gotta Give, which reminded me of my daily to-do list:
“Play music, cook, write, focus.”
A quote from a book I recently read, Girl, Wash Your Face by Rachel Hollis:
“God has perfect timing, and it’s highly possible that by not being where you thought you should be, you will end up exactly where you’re meant to go.”
Or how my son answers the question: What is your name?
His answer: “Am.”
There are so many things to remember. Things like innocence or kindness. How wonderous life is. Life lessons from tragedy or heartache. The magic and miracles of synchronicity or answered prayers. The delicate manner of the dragonfly or bird. What to do when approached by a bear. There are feelings of empathy, tenacity, courage, love and humility. So many things for a person to remember on her journey through life. Which is why I choose to write.
I write to remember.
Here’s my new memory bank:
Time to make another deposit.