In a lifetime, the days run into years and specifics are forgotten. I don't remember days, necessarily, same as you, I remember feelings. Maybe instead of snapping pictures on our phones, we should write the moments. Just to see the pictures in our minds eye once more.
A few of my moments.
A purple bicycle with a white banana seat and a miniature Kansas licence plate, playing cards stuck in the wheel to make noise for our block party parade.
Lying in a big orange hammock in the backyard with my dad, counting stars, getting all the way to 100.
Playing Marco Polo in a wheat field with my brother until his white blond hair turned to wringlets and beads of sweat formed on his cute little nose.
Believing with all of my heart that I could hear the footsteps of reindeer on the roof as my grandmother told my brother and I to listen.
Learning to drive a stick shift on a dirt road, driving toward sunset, fields of gold and clouds of dust.
A front porch, flooded with sunlight, a porch swing creaking, marigolds and snapdragons all around.
Walking to my evening Shakespeare class in the falling leaves, dreaming about how I would love to study in England and see the world of this remarkable writer .
The soft, mystical recognition of seeing my babies faces and holding their familiar form the first time.
A hummingbird in Colorado , fluttering eye to eye, telling me secrets.
Singing a song about a crawdad, as a family with small children on an Oklahoma road.
Substitute teaching at the high school, my kids and their friends spending lunch with me, telling about their day, and thinking about how lucky I am. (That was yesterday)
I can't hold the moments, I can't take pictures of them from my mind's eye, But I can remember them.