Thanks Ger! Perhaps there is a purpose to our old memories. Allowed to age like a fine whiskey, we come to savor the subtleties and complexities of our memories. We swirl them around looking for insight and meaning in the smallest of details. Even in our decay, we draw comfort from something never intended to become a memory. No picture was taken but I can see him, smell him, and miss him. I hope Heaven is a place of reunions.
Another wonderful post, Ron. I wish you would write a whole book about your childhood. Your memories. are vivid and so well described.
Thanks Ger! Perhaps there is a purpose to our old memories. Allowed to age like a fine whiskey, we come to savor the subtleties and complexities of our memories. We swirl them around looking for insight and meaning in the smallest of details. Even in our decay, we draw comfort from something never intended to become a memory. No picture was taken but I can see him, smell him, and miss him. I hope Heaven is a place of reunions.