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Posts from the ‘Autobiography’ Category

Sep 17

12 Comments

Something About You

This is my favorite song ever.

I have lots of second favorites, songs I get excited about when I hear them on the radio. You know, the “Oh! I LOVE this song!” songs.

But none have ever come close to knocking my favorite out of place.

I don’t even know why it’s my favorite song; I can’t explain it.

It’s like the difference between having a crush and being in love.

It just makes my heart beat in a different way.

.

What’s your favorite song?

Can you explain why it’s your favorite?

♦

Sep 5

23 Comments

Do I really need tons of photos to remember my vacation?

I’m a picture person. I usually take tons of photos during special events, especially trips and vacations.

Unfortunately, I was sick on my vacation last week. My throat was hurting by the first day, and by Tuesday my energy was low, low, low. I can see the rapid disintegration in my photo folders: Sun night 70 pictures, Mon 207 pictures, Tues 7 pictures.

It was one of those times when I really wanted to do something, but couldn’t muster the energy or motivation to make it happen. And it seemed like every time I opted not to take my camera with me, that was the time when I wish I’d had it. When I did take it with me, I barely used it.

I made myself spend the day outdoors on Thursday. And though I kept wanting to fall asleep on my chair, I swam and talked and read and watched. At one point, I knew it was the time to take pictures, that this was a moment I’d want to capture. The sun was shining, the waves were blue and white, and everyone was out there having fun. But I thought, “tomorrow…I will do it tomorrow. Today I will just watch and enjoy.”

Of course, the next day – our last day – I was in bed all day and the one time I ventured out into the heat, I turned right back around and went back to bed. So there was no next sunlit day at the beach.

And now I’m kind of sad that I don’t have more photos. I’m still sick, but I wish I’d pushed myself more and just made myself take pictures.

Memories of outings past:

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Those photos are important to me. They bring back the memories in a vivid, perfect way that my mind simply can’t replicate.

I remember the texture of the event, what I felt like, what it sounded like, bits and pieces of scenery and little snippets of the action. But a photo can show me, whenever I want, the exact expression on someone’s face, the exact moment when this  happened, this tiny little thing I’d already forgotten about.

Some people never take photos, and they don’t really need that kind of memento. Even as I was watching the others play in the waves that Thursday, I was thinking it would be okay if I didn’t get those pictures. Because being there was the thing, the most important part. Enjoying the experience. And I was right, of course.

But I still wish I had more pictures.

♦

Are you a picture person?

Do you feel the need to capture the moment, or are you perfectly content just to live it?

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Aug 16

5 Comments

Ode to a Dying Computer

Once again, my computer is broken.

Oh the agony of that moment when we first realize our electronic devices are gone.

My computer coughed and refused to boot up.

I sat and waited and watched. I kept a steady vigil and spoke a prayer or two; there was nothing more I could do.

I took it to the doctor this morning, and unfortunately my computer will not recover without a transplant.

I feel like Marsha Brady when she made two dates for the school dance: “This is the WORST thing that’s ever happened to me!”

And like Marsha, this is clearly not the worst thing that has or ever will happen to me.

And yet…

Oh,

How awfully I feel it.

.

Aug 8

20 Comments

love you…

My Aunt Virginia passed away a week ago today. We’ve lost three family members in less than a year, and it’s hard. We have our memories, but we would rather have the people. For me, when I think about each one of them, specific things come to mind.

With my Aunt Carine, I can see her motions. I can see her walking around the house, and sitting with one leg tucked beneath her, and the way she passed bowls of food at dinner. I can see the movements of her arms and hands. But mostly I hear her voice. She had a nice voice and a gentle way of speaking. I can see her sitting across the living room from me during Bible study, talking something out with me, explaining, examining. I so wish I could have all those words back and hear all those talks again. But she was someone who used your name a lot, and at least I can still hear her saying, “You know, Michelle…” I can still hear the way she said my name.

Have you ever noticed that some people have a special way of saying your name? Maybe it’s the tone of their voice or their inflection or their accent or simply that it’s the voice of someone you care about. Or maybe it’s just that some people fill up your name with so much stuff! With love and memories and compassion and humor and I don’t know what. But somehow they pack it all in there, into that one word, a word that not only belongs to you but somehow is you.

With my cousin Brandon, I see him playing guitar. Not talking, not looking up, just playing. I had a hard time getting him to talk to me; he’d say as few words as he could get away with and then close himself up with a little smile. I can picture that smile and his head tilted down and just a bit to the side. But his eyes are smiling up at me, telling me there are a multitude of things going on in his head that I’m just not gonna be privy to. I knew who he was with his family and friends, had witnessed the gregarious Brandon. But we weren’t close enough for him to be that person with me, and that’s okay.

That smile of Brandon’s always reminded me of my cousin Joey. Joey had that same kind of smile, and I always had the feeling that somehow he was teasing me behind it. Like he knew things about me that I didn’t know myself, and he was thinking, “you’ll figure it all out eventually.”

Now, with my Aunt Virginia, I hear her laugh. It was more of a chuckle, I guess, a quiet kind of laugh. I see her smiling and laughing a lot, and how her face would kind of open up when she laughed. And I haven’t put on a pair of earrings since I was about 13 without thinking of her. When she saw me putting them on by feel, she thought it was just so clever. She was laughing then, too. We were in the stairwell outside of my family’s apartment door. “You can do that without looking!?” She said she couldn’t do that without a mirror, and she laughed.

Now why should that little moment stick with me so long? I don’t know why, but it has. And I can hear her saying, “love you”. Whether we were leaving big family gatherings or little visits, she’d always say that.

“Love you.”

♥

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