Memories

I often wonder what I have forgotten. I remember a beautiful brunette walking into business law on March 17th, 1997; her eyes, her hair, her shape, but not what she was wearing. Pants, skirt, sweater, blouse, each will present a body so differently, yet I remember she was perfect. How is it I can remember so many details of her on that day, yet not what she was wearing?

Memories are bound to be buried, maybe lost to me forever. I have now lived fifty years, years filled with friends, events, places, fights, crashes, learning, work, travel, parties, children, death. This past December I had a conversation with an old friend, he recounted an event I had totally forgotten. Even after the telling I was no closer to remembering, though it all seemed plausible and entirely likely.

Is that why the years have passed so quickly? Because of forgotten details? Thankfully I have had few traumatic or painful events that need to be forgotten, yet these are with me. The years have gaps, ones that should be filled with smiles and people.

As my life develops new memories, I wonder what will be shoved out over the (hopefully) next fifty years. Yes, I want to experience more, but the past is so powerful, so cherished.

As she sat to my right, I was struck by that smile, those twinkling eyes. I suppose her clothes weren't that important. And that's enough of a memory for me.