Memory Banks

We humans can pick and choose many things along our road of life,

Friends, spouses, lovers, and on and on, but memories, ah, not so.

They enter our hearts with utter abandon, never by invitation and yet are seldom unwelcome. I often wonder about the elasticity of the bank that holds so much and yet never seems to be too crowded.

The older I become, the more I seem to learn about my memory bank.

Memories are taken so for granted. We never seek them, or plan them. They are just there except if illness intervenes. However, that is not what we are discussing today and hopefully, never.

I think the amazing part of the residual memories I carry are that the bad ones, those that bring pain or sorrow, seem to be filtering out as the days go by.

I do not do this deliberately, and yet I must admit I find it a welcoming occurrence.

While I cannot help but acknowledge the reality of growing up during the “depression” years, I honestly cannot recall any deprivation. My remembrances of those years are of tables laden with food, vacations in a seaside bungalow overflowing with cousins and friends, and movies every Sunday at the famed Roxy theatre.

When I look at the pictures of the home I recently left, I only remember the Sunday chicken barbeques that my husband loved, and the lilac bushes that bloomed each spring. I have no memory of cutting the grass or washing the windows.

A vague voice tries to intervene with a story about a collapsed septic tank and a flooded basement, but I cannot really hear it. Instead I remember a birthday party when a good friend dressed in a gorilla’s suit and entertained the grandchildren. I remember the dining room with red and green tablecloth and napkins or Christmas morning

Maybe my memory bank is too full for things best forgotten or no longer has the elasticity to include unhappiness.

It doesn’t matter. I just enjoy the ones that keep erupting without rhyme or reason and enhance my life. If I were more analytical, I could reach back into its dark corners and retrieve anything lurking or hidden, but I really don’t want to do that.

This is far nicer and far more fun.