I Remember...

         I admit it. Any time I can slip in an ellipsis, I do.  So, when I saw Barb's memoir piece on her blog, I pounced on it. Not because I wanted to share a part of myself via a piece of writing. No, I knew that I would have the opportunity to slip in an ellipsis (or six) if I wrote a "I remember" piece.  So here goes...

photo by Stephanie Whitehead

      I remember going on vacations in the Falcon station wagon, a flyswatter flailing back at us when we got too loud, and eating picnic lunches along the way...

      I remember falling in love with James Taylor, lipsyncing to Carole King, and taping David Cassidy's picture all over the basement wall...

      I remember learning about apartheid through Alan Paton and the French Revolution through Dickens and about Kent State and Woodstock because of Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young. And I remember discovering that a thirteen-year old girl has no chance of winning the heart of a God of an English teacher...

     I remember giving birth to a beautiful daughter at home--in my own bed--and afterward, having cake and coffee with the doctor...

     I remember going to France for the first time. Four hours for dinner, shooting off the top of champagne bottles into the woods so "champagne trees" could grow, and wishing I could stay forever...

     I remember my life changing with a couple of messages in my in box. The discovery of a sister I never knew about. The news that, yes, someone other than me saw value in my stories...

     I remember, and now that I am past middle-aged, I grasp my memories tighter with every advancing year...



      What do you remember?  And you have my permission---go crazy with the ellipsis...