Remember...

Just one of the details.

It always amazes me how the little details are the ones that make the most impact, the ones that I remember many years later. They become the threads that swirl and weave together, forming the story of who we are, of what we have become. The writer in me pays attention to the details, so I can use them to add richness and depth to my work. But when I'm not writing, when I'm just reflecting, I let the details play across my mind and I amuse myself with the sweet and sometimes odd images that have found a home in my subconscious and reappear later to add richness and depth to my memories.

I often take a walk through these images, recounting the numerous threads that form the tapestry of my life. The way my mom's knobby white bedspread felt on my five year old palm, how my teenage hair used to bounce on my shoulders, the curls tangling with the sequins on my drill team uniform. I wander through my childhood home, remembering the way it smelled like "my family" (much in the same way my friend's daughter recently told her dad he smelled like "college") and how my father's voice could be always be heard, no matter where in the house he happened to be. I still vividly recall how it felt to step off the bus at basic training, how the Texas humidity assaulted me, how my stomach lurched at the sight of the drill instructors, how the metal plates on the bottom of their boots tapped an insistent rhythm, demanding attention, commanding obedience. I remember how it felt to be handed a diploma with my name and new initials on it, how years of hard work culminated with two new letters and a world of possibility. Through my mind's eye, I watch my own vision narrow to center on one phrase on a lab slip, proof positive that a small miracle was growing inside of me, my hands trembling with a mixture of trepidation and delight. I remember the sensations of pulling and pressure that were dulled, but not completely obliterated by anesthetic, how the doctors hurriedly removed my child from me and the unexpected physical emptiness that followed. I replay the feeling of my heart swelling with more love and adoration than i ever imagined possible, all for the tiny little wonder they put into my arms, and how it felt when her lips moved in a gentle rhythm against my skin, how her delicate fingers encircled mine, how she looked at me with a tender recognition that told me she knew who I was. And now, how she soaks up the attention that is often lavished on her, how she smiles unabashedly at strangers, how she cuddles and kisses with reckless abandon, how she meets the world head on and face forward; her energy a heady mixture of sparkle and stubbornness. So many details, so many memories, a life full of richness and depth.

I've been busy the past little while creating some new memories. And while I waited for my words to catch up to the motion, I have been cataloging these images so I can walk through them again and again; to remember the details, to recall the feelings, to replay the events that are leading up to a new way of life and layering on the richness and depth to an already magical time.