Today and for quite some time I have been thankful for memories.
Recently, I have experienced multiple yet inexplicably random flashbacks. Anything from visions of my grandmother’s sunlit silhouette watering a willow tree, to thoughts of Kaisha climbing into my cherry red classic Mustang when we first started dating. I’ve had glimpses of “Hee Haw” run through my thoughts as well as moments of reading Walt Whitman on the deck of Uncle Raymond’s sailboat. All these moments that pop back into the present from time to time deserve so much explanation, they’re all epic stories, if unpacked individually, yet for some reason daily existence has a way of shrinking them into small blips. The day may allow time for a smile or even a chuckle but these recollections are quickly pushed back into the recesses. My story, my grand story, which in turn affects your story, can only be told by remembering these small moments. They cling together to form who I am.
Like the time my college roommate burned down our apartment while frying shrimp and showering simultaneously.
Like the time when Joe, Joey, and I swam out to an island somewhere in Lake Lanier and covered ourselves with a red/yellow clay mud from head to toe, a little homemade spa day.
Like the time my pawpaw filled a bowl with water and then floated a glass of Coca Cola in it - per my hankering for a “coke float”.
Like the times Samuel used to take naps on my chest while swinging in a hammock outside our house in Alabaster.
Like the time when I along with two others purchased over one hundred raw oysters, they where on sale as it was the last day of the season, and downed them in one night.
Like the time Samuel found a chicken head lying at our door; good job Elie (dog).
All these moments, fleeting from the spotlight yet in fact telling the entirety of the production. For these moments, when remembered at oddly placed times in the day, I am thankful.
I am also thankful that I have broken the blog drought.
