Sometimes remembering is hard. Sometimes I remember things that make me sad. Or shame me. Or overwhelm me. I remember when I was in the first grade, my mother was Santa Claus for my class. I don't guess she did it for any other classes. I felt very special that she did it for mine.
I didn't say anything to anybody, but I knew as soon as she gave me whatever she had as gifts for everybody. She had gotten the suit from somewhere and was covered completely by the wig and the red suit. But when I took the candy or trinket, I saw her rings. She wore a large opal ring that was very distinctive; I didn't say anything to her or the other kids until I got home. She thought she had fooled me. She didn't think about the rings, I guess. But it was a kind of secret we shared that made me feel very proud and honored to have her do this for my friends.
Memories have special significance to each of us, and enjoying the memory gives the same special feeling the original event carried. Oh, I love to remember!
I didn't say anything to anybody, but I knew as soon as she gave me whatever she had as gifts for everybody. She had gotten the suit from somewhere and was covered completely by the wig and the red suit. But when I took the candy or trinket, I saw her rings. She wore a large opal ring that was very distinctive; I didn't say anything to her or the other kids until I got home. She thought she had fooled me. She didn't think about the rings, I guess. But it was a kind of secret we shared that made me feel very proud and honored to have her do this for my friends.
Memories have special significance to each of us, and enjoying the memory gives the same special feeling the original event carried. Oh, I love to remember!
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