Memories sometimes come to us in flashes. It’s like a stop motion movie in our heads, sometimes with antique filters or the brightest of colors. The pictures remain overall unaltered to the way we originally perceived it.

One such memory floating around in my head was when my father was still alive. We were standing on the bank of the Mississippi river throwing stones into the water. I remember the way the air smelled. My mother smiling and it was a happy memory.

I watched how his eyes searched the water and looked longingly out. Something missing for him but I didn’t know what. I know now what it was but the only thing that matters is that it’s one of the few times I can recall smiles on my parents faces when we were together. It wasn’t a holiday or a special occasion, just a day like any other…but not.

It’s those small trinkets of joy that I hold so close. So many little floating memories of joy. They seem so tiny against all the bigger memories that had the adverse effect. I would suppose that is what makes them so special.


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