I’ve decided to use the word ‘splice’ as in a fragmented sliver. A ‘slice’ of life would be a nice, neat, perfectly cut slice of pie in my mind’s eye. A ‘splice’ is a memory out of context but permanently glued into a place of mind that doesn’t fall in sinc with my mind’s recollection. Now, mind you…we were both in the same place at the same time, creating the same memories.
A recent conversation with my son went something like this.
Son: Remember that time we went to Reno.
Me: No, we never went to Reno. We went to Laughlin to visit friends.
Son: And we drove over to Yosemite.
Me: No, we went through Bryce & Zion Parks. We’ve never been to Yosemite.
Son: And the Grand Canyon too.
Me: Yes, but that was five years earlier.…two different vacations.
Son: Are you sure?
Me: Yes, I was driving.
Son: That was a great time, wasn’t it.
Me: Yes. Which one?
Son: Does it matter? I enjoyed it.
Pause
Son: What did we eat there?
Me: I dunno. I remember you throwing up.
Son: Where?
Me: Scottsdale.
Son: I don’t remember that.
Me: It was the first one, not the second.
Son: First what?
Me: Vacation, five years earlier.
(Heavy sigh)
Fracture, fracture, brain cramp. He did enjoy it. (Both of them.) Granted he had fond memories. I think. I guess it’s time to drag out the old photo albums. Refresh the old memory cells & close the gaps. At least he didn’t confuse them with Disney World. (Another story for another time!)
Just a splice of life.
Does this sound familiar to you? So, how did your family’s conversations go this past weekend?
Cathy
1 comment:
It seems that there are lots of differences in memory between generations. I remember that when I was a child my family made home made ice cream, always icy and always banana. Late in my forties, I asked my mother why it was always banana, and she said we had never made banana ice cream.
One of my colleagues had the same experience. She was writing a memoir of her childhood which included a strange man. Her mother said there had been so such person.
Post a Comment