I think of a spring breeze, rushing through the air,
It doesn’t have a body, yet it’s there,
And of the sunshine, I give praise,
For turning darkness into days.
Oh, for the things we cannot see,
Without which, we could not be,
I give my thanks eternally.
I wonder how other people “see” their memories, in their mind. Mine come bubbling up in little gray colorless bits and pieces most of the time. If I sit and purposefully try and remember some specific event which has taken place in my life, I fail to rake much information up into the pile. I think the reason I write so much is because once I get onto a tangent of thought, once I get a good smell of a past brain remnant, then more and more starts boiling and cooking up to the surface. I was watching little Eli today, and the thought just popped into sight about Kirsten sleeping on my tummy when she was a tiny baby. I worked at Westinghouse on a night shift back in the early 70’s, and Paula was a Southern Bell operator. She had odd hours. A lot of times when Paula was at work, and it was “baby nap time” I would just lay down on the couch and lay Kirsten on my tummy. It was already quite ample, and I had no fear of her rolling off…She hadn’t mastered rolling over yet. One day though, I was really out of it, and so was she…. and the phone rang. I came out a full sleep and jumped up…And rolled little Kisi on the floor. It was only a short distance, and nothing was hurt but her feelings. I do think I took the phone off the hook after that. File that one under “how children survive inexperienced parents”