#memories

FIREFLY MEMORIES

 

There was a light rain falling as I walked this morning…the weather was cool and calm

when I remembered a night just like this…years ago…in our backyard with my mom.

 

It was the first time I ever saw fireflies…I watched them flash and dance out in the rain

It’s a memory that to this day still makes me smile…a memory that remains.

 

I remember that day as if it was yesterday…Mom looked up and smiled at me…

She said, “I’m glad I was here to witness your first firefly memory.”

 

Mom had a unique way of looking at the world…it was a little odd and at the same time wise…

She saw memory as this endless meadow within our hearts…filled with fireflies.

 

She believed anytime an experience finds its way into our heart…

there is a firefly waiting patiently….

whose sole purpose is to take that experience…

and create a memory.

 

Each firefly has one memory to hold…and they take their job seriously…

ready to flash to life when we want to recall it…and sometimes…unexpectedly.

 

Mom believed some firefly memories last forever…while others have a shorter lifespan….

which is why, she always said, we need to make as many memories as we can.

 

That is why this morning’s light rain brought a smile to my face  

as this memory of Mom flashed before my eyes….

and I was thankful this memory appeared from out my field of fireflies.

 

Thankful for all the fireflies in that field…ready to undertake…

the job of capturing and holding any new memory I make…

 

And thankful for how old memories once captured

can flash into my mind with ease…

Like sitting with my mom in the rain long ago

making firefly memories.

 
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THANKFUL FOR MEMORIES OF WHEN I WAS A CHILD

 

May we be blessed to acknowledge all the wonders in our life

that have, for us, thus far accrued…

and to begin each day with a word of thanks…

and thoughts of gratitude.

 

Today I’m thankful for the memories of when I was but a little thing… 

of how it felt every time I’d swing on a swing…

 

And the older I get…may I always be blessed 

to swing as free and brave and wild

as I did when I was a child.

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WHAT WE REMEMBER MOST

 

After we lose someone we love

someones in whose life we were engrossed….

those times our memories drift to them

may we be blessed 

that it is their love we remember most

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A MORNING WALK THROUGH A CEMETERY

 

I don’t know how memory works…where it ends…or where it starts…

but today I found it guided me to the cemetery of my heart.

 

It’s a solemn, meditative place that in the heart has no parallel.

The final resting place where our memories go to dwell.

 

Every person in the world…anyone who’s ever taken a breath

Even if they haven’t yet…will one day have to cope with death.

 

I’ve lost people I love…my parents…family…friends

It’s an inevitable fact of living that…some day…life will end.

 

When touched by death…memories rush in and the ensuing sorrow can paralyze

then slowly…ever-so-slowly…out of our sadness we start to realize

 

that the one we lost would not want us to remain sad forevermore…

and we do our best, in their memory, to live…as we once lived before.

 

It’s as if when death infects us…in an instant…overnight…

the world that once was filled with joy…turns to a gloomy black and white.

 

Then slowly…if we’re lucky…the healing process begins…

and with the help of our family and friends our smile…and our colors slip back in.

 

To ensure our memories do not fade away…even though we will forever be apart

we find a quiet place for them to rest…in the cemetery of our heart.

 

Which is where if found myself this morning…at the dawning of the day…

planting flowers on the graves…and remembering…those I’ve lost along the way.

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GRANDMA'S HOUSE

 

We kept her house after Grandma died…once we said our final farewell…

because her house has always been special to us…

it’s where many of our memories of her dwell

 

For even though Grandma is gone…our memories of her survive…

and as we walk around her house those memories come alive.

 

Oftentimes when we’re together in Grandma’s house we’ll share a memory…

a memory that to everyone is well-known.

other times we’ll sit in silence cherishing a memory all our own.

 

Grandma’s house may be empty now…but it’s where her spirit is the strongest…

It’s where, when we close our eyes and take a deep breath…

her memories linger longest. 

 

That is the beauty of Grandma’s house…it has this seemingly magical effect…

It’s a place where, when we gather, our memories intersect.

 

We love to visit Grandma’s house…together…or separately..

so it comes as no surprise…we each have our own key.

 

Time and distance keep us from visiting as often as we’d like now…

but…

when we do

we are happy knowing once we unlock her front door…

we’re unlocking our memories of her too.

 
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AN OCEAN OF MEMORIES

 

I like to think all my memories are floating…some separate…some combined…

in an every-deepening ocean…somewhere in the recesses of my mind.

 

Sometimes as I walk along the shore when sparked by a feel, a taste, a smell…or something I might see…a memory will ride a wave and splash all over me.

 

Sometimes I scoop up a handful of memories…just to quench my thirst….

Sometimes I’ll wade in slowly…other times…head first.

 

Yesterday while driving our two eldest grandson’s to the airport…

(they’re off to visit their Texas family)

once we set out on the road…a wave splashed over me.

 

It was the four of us one summer in North Carolina when they visited for a couple weeks…to spend some time with Deborah and I…

and enjoy those Blue Ridge Mountain peaks.

 

MC Hammer’s song ‘U Can’t Touch This’ was big that summer…this was the first wave to him by chance…I remember the four of us turning up the volume as around the house we danced.

 

And here is one of the benefits of having an ocean of memories that over the years are allowed to float free….because in my memory I’m a much better dancer than I am in reality. 

 

Another benefit of having an ocean of memories is how other memories follow that first wave and always make me smile…

as I found myself, while driving, also swimming in them for a while.

 

We said goodbye to our grandsons at the airport…

hoping they’ll have memories to add to their oceans…

memories they’ll never forget…

for me the drive back home was a pleasant one…

you see…I hadn’t finished swimming yet.

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REMEMBERING CAMPFIRES

 

 

I love this time of year…when the cooler weather sneaks back in…

when the leaves begin to change…and fall

It’s campfire time again.

 

I’ve always loved a campfire…watching the colors mix and mingle within the flames…how, just like the moments in my life…no two campfires are the same.

 

Perhaps the true beauty of a campfire is how it invites us to slow down in a world that’s moving much too fast…

and how like magic each new campfire rekindles campfires from our past…. 

 

Faces illuminated by the light…feeling the warmth…giving the fire a poke…

telling stories…smiling…laughing as we share a story, a memory…a joke.

 

Remembering when our children and grandchildren ran around the fire…

watching sparks float to the stars up in the sky…

chasing fireflies, making s’mores…

trying (unsuccessfully) to avoid the smoke getting in our eyes….

 

Toasting marshmallows on a stick…

how some of the marshmallow always sticks to our hands like glue….

remembering back to when that child running around the campfire…

was a younger version of you.

 

Moments of quiet reflection…shedding a tear…saying a prayer

as we remember faces around the campfire…no longer sitting there…

 

The smell of smoke on our clothes…in our hair…as we wake up and greet the next day…

Smiling and hoping, at least for a little while, we don’t wash that aroma away.

 

I think what I love most about a campfire however….

Is how its flames help me rediscover my truth….

how in its glow I can alway find a glimmer…a gleam…a twinkle

of my innocence and youth. 

 
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CHASING FIREFLIES

 

On a morning walk as I watched a burst of lightning flash before my eyes…

a memory was awakened…of our children chasing fireflies.

 

It was in the evening…after dark…around a campfire in N.C.

when from a blended marriage we were still learning how to be a family.

 

I remember how our children were fascinated by fireflies…when a flash of light was all that they could see…I remember it was here they began to learn how beautiful nature could be.

 

I remember Deborah’s father smiling, knowing our children would be no match, as he told them he’d give them a nickel for every firefly they could catch.

 

As I look back at our children chasing fireflies…long before this poem was penned…

I remember at the time thinking to myself how I wished that moment would never end.

 

We never know when a sight, a sound, a taste, a touch…a smell…will awaken in us a memory from the place where memories dwell.

 

We never know when or how a memory…across our minds will leap…

to visit for a moment before returning to the place where memories sleep.

 

It’s funny how that moment…the one I wished would never end…still visits every now and then…like an old and treasured friend.

 

Of course that moment did end…but over the years I have come to understand why…why moments in our life flash like lightning across the sky.

 

Because moments of beauty are meant to be ephemeral…

so that every person…every child…every woman…every man…

can gather, in their lifetime, as many memories as they can…

 

So that…on a morning walk 

when they see a bursts of lightning flash across the skies…

a memory will awaken…

like watching their children chasing fireflies.

 
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OLD FRIENDS

I picked up my old high school yearbook from on the shelf where it has stood for many years and when I opened it I thought…it smelled like childhood.

 

Browsing through its pages I found, much to my delight, how my old f friends and even I looked good in black and white.

 

I found faces I remember…friends I use to know…

moments captured for eternity…a long, long time ago.

 

Names I still remember…Marilyn, Joe and John…

I remember so many wonderful moments spent together…

and how, in a moment…they were gone.

 

Gone…as we left to find our places in the world…

wondering what futures we might find…

excited at the possibilities…grateful for the friends we left behind.

 

I did not know back then…I was much too young to see how the people in this yearbook helped determine who I’d be.

 

I turned to a photo of me standing with my friends…smiling…seemingly without a care…and I realized I wouldn’t be standing where I am today…if I hadn’t been standing there.

 

Standing with my childhood friends…friends who helped me find my way…friends who helped transform the boy I was back then into the man I am today.

 

Yes, looking at old photos of a young me…and old friends I can still name…I wondered if anyone who picks up their old yearbook doesn’t feel the same.

 

Doesn’t smile as they look back on a different time…a different where and when…

and wonder who’d they be today…without the friends they had back then.

 
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