As yet another graduation day approaches I thought about memories. So many memories are being made this week. So many will be made this summer.
Our memories of ourselves are rarely the same memories that others have about us. Others rarely remember us for what we think is important. They rarely remember us for anything that we’d ever think of. It isn’t that history isn’t unkind. Personal history is more a flash of emotion. It is a connection made. It is unexpected bits and pieces that are filed away.
I have memories of times that are like they happened today. I can run them in my head like movies. But if I share those with those who were there with me will they remember?
I run into those who knew me long ago. They don’t remember so many things and events, and even talents that I identify with my own self image of who I am.
What they do remember is my voice. My voice. They remember how I talked and how calm I was. They remember my sweet, calm, soothing voice. That is what everyone except my closest friends remember. I never knew that.
Even without our own families we remember things as if we weren’t related at all, and grew up miles apart.
As I write, a new tale based loosely on a brief time in my life, and those involved, I think of how we remember each other. My memories will be woven with fiction, but I seriously doubt if anyone would ever know they’re mine. Then again, isn’t a lot of what we write, feel, and how we react based on our own memories and experiences, even those locked away in secret places of our minds and hearts.
What I wish for the young adults in my life is that they have many wonderful shared memories that will continue to amaze and entertain, and bring joy for years to come. Even if that is just the memory of the sound of a voice, or the chance viewing of a falling star late at night. Your memories are yours and yours alone. To keep, or to share.
Wishing you good ones.
~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman