Red Room Where the Writers Are

November 8, 2009     Remembering the Good Times

    One of my favorite things to do is to remember the good times. Life is too full of bad times and they seem to imbed themselves the memory like a bunch of staples, digging in deep and blocking everything they can. Walking through the healing process is like taking a staple puller to your soul, pulling out the infected little buggers, one at a time. The good times, however, are like fun photo albums, with frolicking memories jumping out of each photo. Sometimes, my reminiscences are very private, as I ponder the love that has been given to me by so many dear ones. Other times, I am thrilled to join in the laughter of friends and family, as humorous memories are shared. I am often teased about my quirks; my propensity to accidentally touch someone in exactly the place where they have hurt themselves, or just had surgery is just one of them. I understand in the last couple of weeks, family members were deliberating about how I would hurt myself after my knee surgery. I noticed a lot of shaking heads when they learned about my two falls on the same knee, opening up the wound and spraining the entire knee. The teasing will continue on; I’ve learned to laugh at myself and have fun. How precious are the memories of the good times! I cherish the good times of my youth, family hunting trips, going with my mother to her many outings of helping friends and family, and extended family picnics. The memories of the good times are infinitely more important than even one staple-poking bad time.