Light as Dust

Memories might be light as dust and soft as marshmallows, but they have the power to take hold of our emotions, to transport us through time, and to corral our thoughts for significant amounts of time.

Yesterday I uncovered one of my old handwritten journals. Back in that day I didn't have a laptop and I didn't have Blipfoto, so I'd write often at the end of the day about all that I'd seen, all that I'd experienced . . . I've often wondered if it's a waste of time (of course I know it's not), but still you know; time is so valuable.

Now looking at these journal pages . . . they are priceless; at least to me. This is a journal that I took with me when we'd travel. The pages contain my thoughts while traveling rivers, a 10-day trip to Russia, an anniversary weekend in Newport Beach, one New Year's eve just hours before a year ended, thoughts of a friend five years after his death, and on and on.

Today, the 25th of February, is like a journal page or possibly a journal chapter for the two of us because years ago when we were hardly more than youngsters, our lives were bonded together on this day and it changed the course of our lives.

So as we sat at our home dining room table this evening, slowly finishing our dinner for two . . . talking about the "what ifs," the "what abouts," the "can you imagines," the "how comes," the faces of many friends circled in front of us as we speculated about the wonder of having all those friends gathered together around the table to join our discussion. There's not a chance of that because some of them are dead, some are divorced, and some are just gone -- haven't heard from them or about them in years. Somehow, though, the memories of all of them are woven into the fabric of our lives.

February 25th was a Thursday back in '65 when I rode the school bus to my high school and then exited the bus, walked off the campus, crossed the street, and rounded the corner to Mr. Fun's apartment. He skipped college classes; I skipped high school classes. Tonight we both wondered "what if I had not done that." We can hardly entertain that thought. When we got married three months later, absolutely no one thought we'd stay married. I didn't keep a journal back then, but every year this day, and our knowledge of it, feels like a book opened with the pages fluttering from the breeze and memories escaping like leaves we've pressed into it.

I wrote what would be the contents of those journal pages here and then filled-in even more details here.

So that's about it for this day's dust!

Good night from Southern California where today's high was only 73 degrees.
Rosie (& Mr. Fun), aka Carol

P.S. This morning when the pet groomer did not have an opening to get Max and Mitzi in for a bath and a trim, we decided it was our turn to give all three dogs a bath. Chloe and Max and Mitzi hate having a bath, but they sure love the clean results. Mr. Fun washes them and I use our hair-dryer to get them warm and dry. It wasn't the highlight of our day, but it was a lot of laughs. Robert James Waller, author of The Bridges of Madison County, says this about animals and people, " . . . I can tell you this for sure: All romantics like dogs and cats, and maybe some other creatures, preferably animals that come in off the road for a little sustenance and decide to stay around and participate in the craziness they sense in this place of food and laughter. Animals like romantics, for they know they will never be let down by them." ~~ from Old Songs in a New Cafe

P.P.S. Between dog bathing, journal reading, and reminiscing with Mr. Fun, I've just about finished the paperwork so we can visit our tax accountant this coming week.