Ghost of years past
Trying to remember my childhood is getting harder and harder and that scares the heck out of me to be completely upfront with you. When I reminisce I find myself with less and less to go on and sometimes I think my brain must be getting too clogged with all of this unimportant information in the grand scheme of my life, like what others are doing on social media or what kind of bird flew past the window the other day, that I forget the things that should be at the forefront. It was a great blue heron, for your information. And all of that is fine and well, except for when I think it's giving me some retrograde amnesia over here.
But sometimes I'll find myself remembering bits of the past, like that time that stands out to me from when I was six; I was helping my mom re-mulch the garden beds, sitting on the stacked high bags like the princess and the pea, except with mulch, singing "American Pie" at the top of our lungs until I said the lyric "mortal soul" as "moldy soul" and my mom laughed for a year. Literally a year, she's probably still laughing honestly. Maybe that was the best year of my life. Maybe that was the best memory. Or maybe seventh grade was the best year when I dressed up as Alexander Calder and made a mobile to hang from my presentation board in all primary colors. Very "La-La-Land" now that I think about it.
Ghost of years present
The other day one of the best people in my world made a video and captioned it with the quote "do any human beings ever realize life while they live it?-every, every minute?" ( from Thornton Wilder, super sick name, my guy). And I realized, no, we probably don't. We're always waiting for something to begin. Waiting for the new year to start our diet, waiting for the check to come to buy the new gadget, waiting for someone to text you back. But these are trivial waiting periods. The waiting that really does us dirty in this game of life is waiting for your life to begin. It's like what Rapunzel said in the best movie ever, Tangled, when she crooned "when will my life begin" out her tower window.
And okay, Rapunzel, I get that your case might be a little different, what with the fact of being trapped a few hundred feet up in the sky for most of her youth but for the rest of us, our life is happening. Right now. This is life. When you sort your whites from your brights or pick out the best deal from the array of cheerio look-alikes in the cereal aisle, that is life. When I think of living, I tend to think of jumping out of airplanes over a volcano in Hawaii and scaling mountains in Tibet. Which, don't get me wrong, sounds like the best kind of life ever. But until then, life is now. So it's our job to live it, remember it, recognize it, and cherish it with everything we've got. And maybe this is the best year of my life, too. While I'm still just out here sorting the whites and the brights.
Ghost of years yet to come
I'll end this with the best of intentions for these elusive years to come. May every year be the best year, may each and every one hold memories that cannot be replaced, not by anything. May we be present and aware of our lives and our actions, and may we live to the fullest of our abilities. May we all love a little more. May we all hug a little more. Because it's all about love, really. Loving where you're at, loving who you're spending your life with, loving yourself, loving this earth. It's all love.
