Past
twenty, ten, five years, days, hours a few seconds or a few after that, after that ago things good, very good, bad, very bad Memories sifted through hippocampus screens winnowed through a series of mind sieves to let the heart of that moment stand clear and strong, held, filed, long-term stored cross-referenced with other memories stuck with flags for retrieval then a winnowing to let really important details stand close to the flag but behind and beside smaller details, extra bits, peripheral stuff winnowed into a jumble picked at later to dress up the moment with familiar but sometimes ill-fitting clothes so the heart of the memory the essence of the memory colored with big details sits patiently waiting face, event, feeling, sound, taste, smell, moment, thought even just a sliver of a part of the thing, a chunk of something that happened, a spotlight-lit-clear part of a dim whole all flagged like... #my very young daughter looking up at me and smiling#mom wailing in the next room when grandma died#being given a bag of candy while mom and dad went to grandma's funeral#sitting in my car at a stoplight on a warm summer night on my way home and a perfect song comes on the radio#line-fresh clothes on a summer's day#the little shining victory when the right answer fell into view#hearing that my dog had been killed#being told I had cancer#being told I didn't have cancer#making electric eye contact with my future wife across a crowded corridor#seeing a huge flock of birds play before I was to go in for an operationl#bread pudding at a restaurant in Des Moines#waves of anxiety before whatever#toddler granddaughter helping us pack to go home by carefully placing rocks in the car#long beautiful hours reading Gone with the Wind#getting the acceptance letter from college#my first time#being sucker-punched#frantically packing our stuff before the movers came#big guy barreling into me at homeplate but I held onto the ball#dad bringing home warm fresh doughnuts for lunch#not getting a card when I retired#learning to play pool at a friend's house#seeing my daughter in the rearview mirror as we pulled away on her first day at college#hearing banging on the apartment wall to let us know we had a phone call#her father coming with the cops#telling a joke that had them laughing till they cried#picking out a coffin for my father#hitting a car with a boomarang on the beach at Daytona#being almost fired at work for insubordination#seeing Simon & Garfunkel perform#my back hurting from setting pins at a bowling alley#sitting in phys ed class in the 8th grade in the basement of the Baptist church#working the FM booth at the radio station#painting over the purple room in our new house rows of flags rows upon rows upon rows upon rows upon constantly growing rows of flags A simple hard-wired system sending out little electrical pulse-carts to find a flag and fetch a memory then another, then another at our request in tandem with other carts just on its own * * * It is a human system and thus flawed we do not have an inventory we cannot choose what to place in that deep field of flags but we can draw upon a whole box of tools to sully the process to splatter the flags with the mud of distraction to hide the flags with the smoke of denial to whip the flags with the winds of confusion to bust the flags with the brain's own loose cannons and the carts can come back but not stop long enough to unload and the carts can come back but from the wrong flag and the carts can come back but with jumbled details and bits and the carts can come back but heaped with nasty surprises and the carts can come back but empty But the carts can also come back with the joy the anguish the beauty the pain the love the fear the sweetness the bitterness the happiness the sadness all the dots that, connected, show the moments in our story Harry W. Yeatts Jr. |