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
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.
ReplyDeleteOne 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.