I don’t know why I am like this but maybe some of you are the same. Right now I am sitting here and remembering a push button TV set like this one.
Except ours was silver and sat upon a fake wood cabinet that was peeling with age. Inside was a myriad of VHS tapes and my favorite by far was an old episode of NOVA explaining how the Titanic was found. I played that tape until it broke with a snap I can still hear in my dreams. To the right sat my brothers Nintendo system which I wasn’t suppose to play with. My cousin and brother who were 9 years my senior would let me watch them play Super Mario 3. I would eat gushers and they would make silly jokes about the frog suit or Mario’s sack. Most of their adult jokes going over my head. Soon it would be midnight and we would be whisked off to bed.
Those days are gone now. My cousin lives a state away and last time I spoke to him was at a funeral. At that age he was my second brother, now nothing more than a stranger. The T.V. and Stand are in a land fill somewhere and the Nintendo sits in the basement dusty and forgotten. My heart quivers at the reality of it now…but memories of those days make me smile.
Ever notice that sun always seems to be much warmer and pleasant in memory? In that room there was an old frayed ottoman that sat by a screen door. I remember laying on it one day bored with nothing to do. The sun blanketed me in a warmth that enveloped my entirety and peace set over me that I have rarely felt since. Soon I began to watch the dust dance in the sunstream. Suddenly I remember a feeling hit me with the subtlety of a bagpipe. “I wish I had a friend here.” Loneliness finally found me.
One year later my family got a cat. I was too young to truly appreciate the significance of it. That is until that summer as I lay on the futon again watching the dust float around me. She laid down next to me and began to stare just as transfixed I had been. I had found my friend.
The memory of those feelings still bring me comfort. The ottoman is gone now, and I live in a new home…there is still dust dancing in the sunlight but my friend is no longer here to share it with me. My eyes water know the finality of it…but now I share it with you. So I suppose now my friends can appreciate the dancing dust with me…even if they are far away.
Nostalgia always seems to hit me in an abundant amount. And I always find it quaint that its always the little things that bring back the strongest of memories. The dust above my lamp brought all these memories flooding back tonight. Is a smell or color? A crushed Crayon in the backseat or a song on the radio? Or is an image like this?
What makes a memory?