Memories

When I got on my bike today this great feeling came over me. It's Friday for me; I have strong healthy legs and it felt great to use my muscles pumping my bike; the cool air felt great on my cheeks. Suddenly, I was 8 years old, riding my fantastic bike with the polka-dotted banana seat, wearing my favorite purple shirt and a zip-up-the-front sweatshirt, feeling the cool fall air on my cheeks.

You know the great thing about a childhood free of major trauma or dysfunction? It is the deep well of great memories you have at your fingertips. The feeling you get when all is right with the world and you are just cruising around on your bike, enjoying being alive and well. The smells and sensations that can trigger these good memories, the feeling that you are strong and well and could run or ride your bike forever. The feeling of being in the middle of a big, loud, chaotic family gathering--that these are your people. That you have people.

I remember one Thanksgiving gathering at my Grandma and Grandpa's house when I was probably 6 or 7. My older cousin Jenny got a call from her then boyfriend (and future husband), and the tiny house was packed with people and so loud I couldn't imagine how she could hear what he was saying. Her face lit up with surprise when someone said "Steve's on the phone!", and with a big smile on her face she took the phone and crawled under the kitchen table. She was under the table, laying down with her feet propped up on a chair, relaxed and happy as could be, smiling and laughing and talking to her boyfriend. This is the first inkling I had that maybe it is a nice thing to have a boyfriend. Not that I wanted one, but maybe it would be nice, one day. These images are so sweet, and what a wonderful gift to have these kinds of memories waiting in the wings, to be brought back by some momentary smell or sight or sound.