“I didn’t belong as a kid, and that always bothered me. If only I’d known that one day my differentness would be an asset, then my early life would have been much easier.”
― Bette Midler
Tag: <span>memories</span>
It was late in the evening, I was glued in front of your small TV and watched The Birds by Alfred Hitchcock. My Grandmother had long gone to bed, the living room was dark, and I enjoyed staying up late, as every child does.
We raced over the frozen lake with a hockey stick in our hands and pretended to be famous players. I wasn’t elegant on the ice, could hardly hold my balance and never figured out where the breaks were.
When we hit middle age, that’s when most of us start reminiscing. We think about the good old times and compare our present life to the past, and our treasured memories make us often believe life was mostly better back then.
It started snowing last night. I felt it when I woke up. The darkness outside was brighter, the silence quieter and my soul smiled.
“Keep the windows down and keep the radio turned off,” my Grandmother advised me, and I nodded. I knew the avalanche rules too well. I had been traveling down the mountain roads as a passenger with her and other adults for years.
When I was a newlywed and a young student I cleaned offices late in the evening. I remember my first interview very well. The owner was hesitant toward my age. He thought I would lack experience, but gave me a try when I told him about the women who had trained me to SEE DIRT.
There was a time in our lives when we didn’t have too much money. To be honest, we didn’t have any and hardly made it. We were forced to start all over new, and so we moved with our dogs and everything an SUV could hold across the country. It was a move we couldn’t afford, many things were left behind.
I didn’t like our neighbor, he frightened me.
“Get to know him,” my Grandmother had advised me and that’s why I was standing here and watched this cruel man holding a tiny bird.
They all greeted my Grandmother nicely, paid respect to her and connected through her with a friend, who wasn’t there anymore. I sat quietly beside her and listened to the stories these men had to tell.