Remember When...

“Well, do you?”

“No, I try not to remember, it is easier that way.”

“Do you remember the time we went off seeking to be lost? Escape the implied pressures; jobs, family, us?”

I did remember, but couldn’t, no, didn’t want to admit that the past makes me nostalgic for something that may never have existed, except in my mind.

“Yes, I remember falling up.”

“Falling up? What does that mean?”

It is a feeling. We take memories from our past and purposely embellish or detract from their reality to make them acceptable for our needs. That is what remembrance is for the most part, a crutch to help us from the past to the present. If the crutch won’t accomplish the feat, we find another crutch or possibly a walker or wheelchair, should things become desperate.

We continue to move forward as there is no other place to go. We must go however…or are faced with our inability to recognize that we are our only salvation. Falling up is a way to keep reality at bay while preserving our integrity. We may mourn our passing, but do so with the knowledge that tomorrows bring new dreams.

Nostalgia of course gets in the way. We tend to remember only the good, shelve the bad, and distort reality to encompass both, without having to attach a memory to it.

We also realize that biology has planned for our breaks with reality. We should blame ourselves, but can't, so we leave it to our subconscious to pray in our stead for remorse. Our minds are capable of storing only so much knowledge before it has to throw some of it away, or change the substance to allow it to be shelved, or combined with something of equal but separate value. It is a way we fool ourselves into believing we are unique; we are the win-win of our own esteem.

“Do you remember how we used to drive back in the woods on some old logging road. We’d find a stream, I’d fish, you’d read, and then we’d build a fire and just be. We don’t do that anymore. Ever wonder why? I think I know why, but having someone else remember tends to jog the memory, bring things back into focus. Life has a way of casting a fog over our daily being, and we can still see, but not as clearly. It is as if we are looking at everything through water. Everything appears normal, but it is distorted, changes ever so imperceptibly we don’t notice, until we do. By then, most times it is too late, or we believe it is. How do we get those times before the fog back?”

I don’t know. Pretending something happened, didn’t happen, does not change the facts, only our perception of them. He has forgotten the mosquitoes, the rain, getting stuck in the mud, the tow truck. He only remembers the moon, stars, campfire, smoke rising like illusions into the realm of wishes and dreams.

Perhaps I have lived too long under the fog to escape. The constant pressure of its presence changes one’s ability to remember, regardless of the distortion we improvise to allow ourselves to survive.

I too can remember those times, despite the negative reality of times, when we attempted to make our world our own. I fear we have forgotten how to do that. We are bombarded daily by the inferences that we are not quite good enough to be as successful, or accomplished as…? But what does that mean? We will never be as rich or famous?

I’ve never believed in the whole rich and famous phenomenon that is supposed to awaken the inner us to strive for more. More what? Perhaps we should be striving for less. 

Examining the past does allow us to reaffirm who we were, and what we have become, who we are now. Given the fact that we tend to augment our recollections to improve our own standing in our own eyes, does not detract wholly from our purpose. Re-examining who we were and who we are is a vital in our deciding who we will become.

“Do you remember that time we thought we might die? We were caught in the rain on the mountain. The temperature plummeted. We believed we were near entering what we assumed was, hypothermia. My thoughts were helium induced.  We forced ourselves to move, keep going. I think we realized for the first time that death was possible.

It was a scary thought. Until then, I never thought about it much. I was for the most part invincible, as were you. That day changed everything. I believe we both realized that life is temporary, and it frightened us into a state of reality that steals that explorers lust to find what is next. Fear creeps in when you are not looking, and hides behind every choice, waiting to make an appearance.

Of course we don’t realize that at the time. We are too arrogant for that. But it is there nonetheless, waiting.”

I’d forgotten that…that feeling of freedom that comes with youth. It is as if there will always be a tomorrow, something to look forward to. And then that cold rain comes, and you are changed forever. It arrives so imperceptibly slowly that you forget it is raining. 

I’m sure that time is different for everyone, but it does come, and if we are not careful, it throws that foggy net over us, and we are left with only the illusion of clarity. 

“We should to something special for your birthday. Not everyone gets to turn eighty. Actually most don’t. The net gets to heavy, to dense to see through, and some just give up, resign themselves to having cataracts instead of seeing an ophthalmologist. What do you say we dig out the old tent, find the sleeping bags, and head into the woods and see if there isn’t still a logging road somewhere with our name on it.”

As much as that sounds appealing, I can’t help but think of how hard the ground is. How big the mosquitoes are. And the weather of late! But most of what we are, who we are, is all in our heads anyway. It might be time to watch someone’s movie you’ve forgotten about, rather than relive the episodes of an already too familiar story.

“Sure, what the hell. Might as well die in the woods as here. Actually seems more fitting, given the forecast for perpetual sunshine.”