Remember

I find myself trying to account for the last 3 months (months since my last post-shameful!).  I am tempted to sweep it out my backdoor like this morning's breakfast crumbs, but I am sure something blog worthy has happened.  I just can't recall, which sadly leads me to conclude that my writer "eye" is sadly fading.  I am no longer seeing things as a great story to tell. 

The other night I was remembering a small town I lived in during the 1rst and 2nd grade.  It seemed so magical as a child.  We lived in a new subdivision situtated on lots of open acres for playing and roaming.  I road my bike down what seemed to me at the time a giant highway to my piano teachers house.  We dressed up in our Sunday best on Tuesdays and walked to primary after school let out.  We bought penny candy at the Merrill store and ran barefoot down gravel roads.   As a young adult I once detoured off the freeway on my way back to college to visit this childhood community.  I was so sad to discover that it was practically a ghost town.  It was as if it had died when I left and nothing was ever the same.  I looked for anything familar and it seemed that nothing was even remotely the same.  I often long for things to be familar and to stay the same.

Is this what happens when we don't tell our stories and keep them alive.  It must be a reflection of my own personal weakness of being resistant to change.  I long for things to stay the same, or as I remember them.  I am afraid things are never a good as we remember them anyway.  What a terrible thing to not be able to remember the good things.  The sad truth is that things do change and all we have is our ability to remember and learn or have hope for better things.