A few weeks ago now I had a very special week. On Monday I had lunch with a childhood friend
and the very next day four of my cousins came to my house for brunch. There is something very special about the
memories you share with a friend of almost 65 years and with family… yes, something
very special. I have written before about how sharing part of your childhood
creates a special bond between people and being a part of family has its own
special and uniquely wonderful connections as well.
Part of the fun for me in both situations is retelling favorite stories and
listening to them being retold as well.
It is a bit of a liturgy really. These stories are a part of a customary
“repertoire” of things of the past.
People are fortunate to have them… and even more fortunate to be able to
tap into them once in a while. They are worth repeating. They remind us to remember.
Sitting across my kitchen table from my childhood friend
(notice I did not say old friend?), I was transported back to early morning
chats with her dad while sitting in the booth in their kitchen while I waited
for her to get ready to go to school with me. She reminded me that he used to
tease me about things. I remember everything.
I remember his voice and her mom moving around their kitchen in her
“pumps”. We talked about her mom’s love of gadgets. I remember them all. Such memories are a
gift. We share many memories – years and years of them – not that that is the
only thing we talk about. That is another whole gift – being able to share
thoughts without any guard up whatsoever. Childhood friends know who you are at the core... and sometimes it is a case of -- they like you anyway. I am fortunate in that.
There are special family times as well – worthy of
repeating. I wish more of my cousins
lived closer and that we had even more childhood memories to recall and share. We
shared a common growing-up and knew older relatives of several previous generations –
we share our memories sometimes with differing perspectives. It is a bond. It is friendship of it own special kind. It is also mega fun. Plus -- they are just plain wonderful people.
All of this calls to mind the most special of all though
-- the liturgy of stories my sister and I used to share or the silly songs that
we made up or remembered and that carried on into adulthood. We would bring them out at the most
inopportune, surprising and sometimes inappropriate times. There would be a sudden burst of song and the
other would join in. My son told me one
time that I was a different person when I was around Aunt Cindy. (I still find that amusing. Guess he wasn’t
used to me/us suddenly breaking out into the old Nestles’ Quik song as it was
sung by the charming Farfel.) Sometimes you just had to be
there…” Her birthday was September 11th. (So much more to remember on that day now since 2001.)
Anyway – the part about this that “hangs on” is that it
is not the same with her gone now. Life is short and unexpected. I guess I just want people to share with
friends and family as much as you can while you can. Haven’t we heard this kind of warning before?
Perhaps many times? There is a reason
why we have.
Was talking with another high school friend later on in that same special week. She was in town for a brief visit and a family reunion. What a lovely way to spend an afternoon. We covered a lot but did focus, for one brief moment, on loss and how it touches everyone at some point in their lives. Now in our 70’s… loss is perhaps too familiar. Yet -- it is a part of it all.
Add me to the list of those who issue the warning to reach out to those you love.
