This was a really fun theme to think about. My first thought was to talk about seeing the stars from Kilimanjaro. But I was alone then, and that kind of quiet alone-ness has a cool quality, like Miika described; however, the southern stars are indescribable and the calm of the air above the clouds is unreal. I can't translate it. As I tried to think of a memory that means something to more than just me, I was brought back to the idea of outer space. My favorite memory is of rocket day.
My aunt is a gift-giver. It's not usually a lavish gift. One time she bought some house rugs for my grandma because she noticed the current rugs were getting worn. One time when my parents and siblings and I were visiting our extended family, she brought along several brain teaser puzzles for us to work on. Sometimes her gifts are something you need, sometimes they are a break you didn't know you needed. On the day of this memory, she brought rockets.
It was the summer five or six years ago and there were around 16 grandkids back then and 10 parents in addition to my grandparents. After a big lunch, everyone picked out a rocket and headed outside. We worked together to help the younger cousins and soon we were all ready to go. The whole family watched as one by one we shot off our rockets. After the launches were complete, I'm not sure what we did. It was just a normal visit with all my family, so we probably ate some more, walked around the garden, and watched some sports or played a game.
I know I took pictures that day. There was one great picture of me and my brother and sister on the porch. But my favorite picture is one of my brother and grandpa laughing together on the porch swing. I like this memory because it was just a regular visit. We had a lot of fun with the rockets, but the whole day every single family member shone. Their personalities were alive and our worries were small.
Since my grandpa passed away last year, visits with the extended family have been different. There is no getting around that. We don't go to the big house and walk around the garden. We don't have the same kind of carefree fun that I felt that day. In this reflection, I realize that a big reason for that loss is that I'm not a kid anymore. I was 16 during this memory and I probably was not aware of every worry that actually existed that day. Still, I can't help but feel like it was an easier time. It was before my grandpa got sick. Before jobs felt so insecure. Before any of us was pulling out a cell phone to text or go online. It was just a beautiful, simple day with family.
And because it was such a typical visit, I'm sure my grandpa said the same thing he always did when I was leaving, "I love you baby. Come back and visit soon".
We can't always visit the places we were before. Physically they may remain the same, but that indescribable quality that makes a good memory almost never remains. It's good to be able to go back and visit the memory, though. It makes me feel like I'm still following through with the response I gave my Grandpa that time, every time, and the last time, "I will".
God gave us memories that we might have roses in December. ~J.M. Barrie
Happy Thursday Everyone,
Elise
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