It is heartwarming and oddly uncomfurtable to think that the moments we are experiencing now may one day turn out to be the sentimental anecdotes you tell in the future.
I've noticed that people older than I reminisce and with such ease are able to capture the essence of their old friends in only a few words, stories, and pictures. As a listener it's amazing how these people and events spoken of seem to come to life and like magic you can get a sense of what they were like and how they still are.
I am obsessed with this exchange of sentiment which has the endless possibility to transform our everyday lives in to stories with legends and meaning and which can evoke such feeling- bringing the experience of one person in to the imagination of another and resulting in a kind of shared time machine. It is a humbling experience to meet someone who tells you that they've heard much about you because the realization that you exist in these exchanges validates your ripples in a shared pond. You are a character to this person and there is a sense of honour in being brought to life in another's stories and have that snapshot of your youth and effect passed on.
It's a bittersweet challenge I take on when I imagine how I will one day convey all of this. I've always felt it a privilege to be lead through another's memories and so I find myself wondering how I will do the same to future friends, family, and lovers. I start with something concrete; my home,my first car, my job and the kinds of food I eat. What can I say about these things? What little qualities will some day represent the whole?
Do I tell them that after my couch lost it's third leg it slouched like it was tired and our pets used to get stuck underneath- their claws comically scraping around in attempt to back out of their mistake. Do I mention that I could not for the life of me remember to take old bottles out of my car or how Edwarde Sharpe and the Magnetic Zero's self titled album never once left my CD player in the car for the entirety of the summer of 2014? What about the perfect stillness of Nicholas Sheeran park at the magic hour, 9pm, on fall evenings when I used to go for bike rides to end the day?
Ultimately I struggle with what words I could use, what pictures I could keep close, and what stories I can tell which would arouse the same feelings and energy I know so intimately for our regular game nights and Stand Up at the Owl. I struggle trying to pull together the texture and meaning of that first night I spent in University residence.
But before I get too lost in nostalgia, I find I'm tripping over my own feet and I am lost as to how I could ever make someone understand the kind of people my friends and family are as they are now. Do I make a list?
What isolated incidents and quirks could I use? What do I know now which will represent the whole of a dynamic, independent person? How can I know now what will stick with me like a beacon in their memory? Will it be what they said? Will it be that Kyle always looked up when he laughed or that Lily used to go to great lengths to drape her arms over ours and then purr like a motorboat so satisfied no matter how uncomfortable she looked.
What will I say?
What a delight must it be to be the first to craft an image and idea in a person of another person and to show a picture and be able to take them deeper- to explain that just down the road was the quietest little East Indian restaurant you used to go to on lazy Sundays.
I find myself easing my anxieties with this power to bring memories back and having this ability to share with others a world they weren't a part of but now participate in reconstructing. I still worry sometimes about the things that will inevitably be lost and forgotten in time but it helps to remind myself that I am not alone- we are all participating in this moment together and whatever is left behind will be part of a bigger picture captured of what has the destiny to be reproduced.
I've noticed that people older than I reminisce and with such ease are able to capture the essence of their old friends in only a few words, stories, and pictures. As a listener it's amazing how these people and events spoken of seem to come to life and like magic you can get a sense of what they were like and how they still are.
I am obsessed with this exchange of sentiment which has the endless possibility to transform our everyday lives in to stories with legends and meaning and which can evoke such feeling- bringing the experience of one person in to the imagination of another and resulting in a kind of shared time machine. It is a humbling experience to meet someone who tells you that they've heard much about you because the realization that you exist in these exchanges validates your ripples in a shared pond. You are a character to this person and there is a sense of honour in being brought to life in another's stories and have that snapshot of your youth and effect passed on.
It's a bittersweet challenge I take on when I imagine how I will one day convey all of this. I've always felt it a privilege to be lead through another's memories and so I find myself wondering how I will do the same to future friends, family, and lovers. I start with something concrete; my home,my first car, my job and the kinds of food I eat. What can I say about these things? What little qualities will some day represent the whole?
Do I tell them that after my couch lost it's third leg it slouched like it was tired and our pets used to get stuck underneath- their claws comically scraping around in attempt to back out of their mistake. Do I mention that I could not for the life of me remember to take old bottles out of my car or how Edwarde Sharpe and the Magnetic Zero's self titled album never once left my CD player in the car for the entirety of the summer of 2014? What about the perfect stillness of Nicholas Sheeran park at the magic hour, 9pm, on fall evenings when I used to go for bike rides to end the day?
Ultimately I struggle with what words I could use, what pictures I could keep close, and what stories I can tell which would arouse the same feelings and energy I know so intimately for our regular game nights and Stand Up at the Owl. I struggle trying to pull together the texture and meaning of that first night I spent in University residence.
Things you should know about my friend Shelby: she never wore socks
Nicknames for my cousins: Kidneybean, Billiam, Char-Char
What isolated incidents and quirks could I use? What do I know now which will represent the whole of a dynamic, independent person? How can I know now what will stick with me like a beacon in their memory? Will it be what they said? Will it be that Kyle always looked up when he laughed or that Lily used to go to great lengths to drape her arms over ours and then purr like a motorboat so satisfied no matter how uncomfortable she looked.What will I say?
What a delight must it be to be the first to craft an image and idea in a person of another person and to show a picture and be able to take them deeper- to explain that just down the road was the quietest little East Indian restaurant you used to go to on lazy Sundays.
I find myself easing my anxieties with this power to bring memories back and having this ability to share with others a world they weren't a part of but now participate in reconstructing. I still worry sometimes about the things that will inevitably be lost and forgotten in time but it helps to remind myself that I am not alone- we are all participating in this moment together and whatever is left behind will be part of a bigger picture captured of what has the destiny to be reproduced.
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