Sometimes I have little life clips replayed in my head. Often I know what prompts the rerun of my life. Just as often I don’t. They just play. Those silly ole’ memories. They just pop in and play themselves out on the constantly running theater of my brain.
I would like to think it’s because of the positivity I try to keep my life focused on that most reruns are of a happy nature. Even if they involve something sad, like my father’s death, they are still filled with love and happiness. Like the laughter and great moments that we all focused on when dad left us. His memories in our heads are centered around funny antics, pranks and bacon sandwiches.
Some of these clips are filled with people no longer fully, if at all, involved in my life. People from my past if you will. Though saying that makes me uncomfortable. There may not be shared time, now, with them. But we did. And those times are valuable. Which is why I have precious memory clips stored in my vaults. And for some reason, lately, I have been having lots of show time dedicated to people I no longer see. Our lives have gone down different paths. I miss many, many, oh so very many of them, there is something that keeps them so dear to me. And that’s the time we did have. I don’t live in those memories. But it’s a purely enjoyable way for my brain to entertain me when I am driving or walking and having moments without conversation, phones, computers, music.
Out of seemingly no where I will have a flash of grade school friends and I on the playground having a serious and world changing conversation, if only the world would listen to us. A camping trip with high school friends (many the same as the grade school friends) where we sat around a picnic table and discussed the important matters of man (boy) and us, women. Girls. Life was good when there were friends, fire, and no parents. No offense parents, it was (is) just the nature of the life cycle. Talking with other parents at my own child’s second grade sleep over at the school with teachers and ourselves. And the little bitty girl who kept sitting straight up in the middle of the night looking around until I would tell her it was okay and she would drop back down to sleep. Until she sat straight up again. The vision of that is so very comical to me. I can see my boss from so many years ago walking out of the elevator, running to the stone/tile fancy bench in the lobby of the office building, popping up on it on one foot, running back in to the elevator, back to the bench, back to the elevator, singing the entire time. I still don’t know why he was doing it, but he did and I still wonder about that. Over my many years in martial arts classes I met and became friends with many people, and I replay happy moments of physical conquests and hysterical physical fails (on my part). And the joy of sharing our progress and hard work. Some clips are kind of played back with an artistic twist because the memory is of friends on phones who called me every morning at 6 a.m. when we were all stay at home moms. The memory is letting me see them when I think of those sanity saving moments when an adult voice interjected in to childhood laughing screaming demanding begging whining witty banter. Visions of my friend from work who would show up at the house with food in a bag and we would sit around the coffee table eating our meal talking, while the kids ate at the dinner table trying to listen to us. She brought them food and jokes but needed to talk to me. Serious stuff in her life that led to strengthening her life, and bonding her to mine. In my head I see a moment shared at the zoo, on a bike ride, on a walk, a dinner out, a movie, so many moments. So many people. So many good people.
So many clips. They’re the only reruns I really care to watch.
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