Only the good memories, please

One of my earliest memories was me as a three-year-old boy exploring the space under the living room table.  In the wee morning hours, the first rays of sunshine shimmering through the glass pane windows of the living room.  Time seems to stand still when I think back to this brief period of my youth.  It still feels like time has stopped, I have been transported back in time and, and once again, I have all the time in the world to ponder and discover new things.

I haven’t made the most of my time on this planet. Maybe many can relate with my sentiment.  When we are young, there is so much promise, so much untapped potential.  Maybe this is why older folks smile so endearingly at their grandchildren.  Because of the hope and promise that the future generation brings to them.

Lying underneath the massive table, I can still envision myself on all fours peering out through the legs of the chairs.  looking up at the living room window, my mom had strung a large glass crystal, shaped like a teardrop, secured with a piece of fishing line, pinned to the top of the window’s frame.  The crystal, when given a slight turn, would produce a thousand shards of light, filling the room with a flurry of dancing, shimmering rainbows.  The light projected onto the ceiling, walls, and floor would always bring a smile to my face.  I remember sitting under the table and just looking up in awe at the light show that surrounded me.  These brief moments of time still fill me with great wonder and contentment.  Just me and my imagination to keep me company.

when I was four I remember my teacher helping me make a wax candle in kindergarten. I remember this memory fondly. I had the job of producing the large indent in the sandbox, and then the teacher would pour the hot wax into the indentation, and insert a wick soon after before the wax had a chance to cool.  How proud I was to be involved in such a marvelous, challenging project. 

Or when I would spend time on the back porch of our home in California, playing in the sandbox.  I would build these large sandcastles and place the hose at the center base of the form.  When the castle was complete, I would turn on the hose, and watch with glee as the water would eventually erupt through the side, and expediently disintegrate my creation.

In in early summer morning, tucked away under theshade of the trees, I remember sitting in an old shell of a boat with a wheel attached at the stern, in a playground,  looking up at a church bell, as it chimed, counting off as it slowly made its way to eleven.  Another time, I remember, me and my family visiting an outdoor amphitheater in the park.  It was spring time. We watched the 1968 movie, Oliver.  What a brutal movie, from what I remembered, nonetheless, an enjoyable, memorable experience.

These were all fond memories.  Maybe that is what we all should focus on, and consciously reflect on more of.  There are good times and bad times in everybody’s life, shouldn’t the good times get the most time in the highlight reels of our minds?

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