Some memories become part of you,
like dye in wool. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
Here are 3 of mine, random and unconnected:
My first kiss was in the 8th grade. We bumped noses. His mouth tasted metallic, like a retainer. When his tongue brushed mine, I got the willies. I didn't get why kissing was such a big deal. I actually thought it was kinda gross.
A random sunny day on maternity leave with my infant son. He was sleeping in the pram. I sat on a park bench and ate cherries from a paper bag. They were big juicy ones, with the perfect tension between firm skin and pliant fruit beneath. Fruit-gasm.
In hospital, touching my grandmother's face, smooth as an egg. Barely a crease, though she was 89. She wasn't conscious anymore, but I like to think she could hear us. I'd just flown in from England. My mother said to her, "Thank you for everything you've done for us. If you're ready to go, go. We love you." I lay my hand on Grandma's forehead. Go gently, dear one. My mother did Reiki healing on her. The next morning, the call came from hospital. She'd left her body in the night. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
Isn't it a beautiful thing to remember? Big and little and random things. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
A kiss that turned you inside out. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
A pair of shoes (whatever happened to those?) ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
A cinnamon bun that changed your life.
This is an invitation to pull up a memory today, something you can stare into the middle distance over, and smile to yourself.
#memoir #writer #memories #thinkingback #personalhistory #writersofinsta #writersofig