Memories are strange things. Do you remember what you did last week on Tuesday? I don't. I don't remember most peoples names, I can't seem to recall them sometimes even if I know the person quite well. Things my daughter has told me half an hour before, gone. Drives her nuts! Bugs me too sometimes.
So why is it that we can, with seemingly perfect clarity, Remember some things that happen in our childhood, or when there is a catastrophe? Why do smells bring us back to a special moment, or even a mistake that you can't seem to forget(or forgive)? The mind is an interesting and sometimes unkind thing.
Do you remember where you were when The Twin Towers fell? I do, I was going to get my marriage license
How about when the space shuttle exploded when lifting off? YUP, Heading to my brothers to babysit his kids.
What about where you were when President Reagan was shot? I was in My 7th. grade math class.
I know where I was in August of 1981. I know I have never been fond of Georgia (specifically Atlanta) since then, and have never ever wanted to return there.
I remember my sister slugging me at my grandfathers funeral because I was not crying (I was 5 years old). And my Aunt Mary teaching me to do "here is the church" hand game to stop me from crying after being punched.
I remember a young women leader that took a special interest in me.
I remember vague images and people filling in the blanks for me as a teen the day after. And as an adult.
Even though I'm not the brightest crayon in the box, I do know there are scientific reasons for all these lovely things we remember. But I still am constantly amazed, irritated and sometimes angered by my memories. It is incredible to me how a sent can bring back happy thoughts of camping trips or holiday gatherings. Or a touch, maybe even a word or laying down a certain way, will send a flood or memories that are overwhelming.So why is it that we can, with seemingly perfect clarity, Remember some things that happen in our childhood, or when there is a catastrophe? Why do smells bring us back to a special moment, or even a mistake that you can't seem to forget(or forgive)? The mind is an interesting and sometimes unkind thing.
Do you remember where you were when The Twin Towers fell? I do, I was going to get my marriage license
How about when the space shuttle exploded when lifting off? YUP, Heading to my brothers to babysit his kids.
What about where you were when President Reagan was shot? I was in My 7th. grade math class.
I know where I was in August of 1981. I know I have never been fond of Georgia (specifically Atlanta) since then, and have never ever wanted to return there.
I remember my sister slugging me at my grandfathers funeral because I was not crying (I was 5 years old). And my Aunt Mary teaching me to do "here is the church" hand game to stop me from crying after being punched.
I remember a young women leader that took a special interest in me.
I remember vague images and people filling in the blanks for me as a teen the day after. And as an adult.
I have memories that come back at the strangest times. Some pleasant, some not so much, and some horrible.
So why is the human mind so incredibly amassing, yet so unforgivably cruel?
What do you remember? Why do you remember? Sometimes I think some memories are just best left alone. I have tried many ways of leaving some of mine behind, they just come back. I can't leave them or they wont leave me. No matter what, or how, I try they always seem to find me when I lest expect it.
Memories are really very strange to me. I'm happy for most, and tired of hiding from the rest.
So why is the human mind so incredibly amassing, yet so unforgivably cruel?
What do you remember? Why do you remember? Sometimes I think some memories are just best left alone. I have tried many ways of leaving some of mine behind, they just come back. I can't leave them or they wont leave me. No matter what, or how, I try they always seem to find me when I lest expect it.
Memories are really very strange to me. I'm happy for most, and tired of hiding from the rest.
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