I was busy the other night cleaning out some old files, rearranging my rec room so it would be less of a wreck. The room serves as my computer room, art room, exercise room (read: mostly unused treadmill in a corner), and office. I had scored a wonderful filing cabinet with deep drawers at work last week, and was busy emptying some of the baskets and boxes I had filled with my things.
I was listening to music, and just humming along. Then I found some things from my dad's memorial, back in 2000. Funny, I thought the memorial was on August 17. For years that date has been fixed in my mind. It was August 18. How odd, I thought.
I was musing about that when Into the Mystic by Van Morrison started to play. And I remembered a night, almost 7 years ago, when I was staying with Jen after the twins were born. The twins weren't sleeping, and at 2 AM, we each had a baby in our arms in the living room, and this song was one of the songs we danced to. As I remembered, I could feel it as though I was there again.
I found the memories swirling in my head as I listened to the music. Wishing Dad could have seen his four great-grandchildren. Wishing they could have known him. I see him in them sometimes, the nuances that go almost undetected. I see him. And smile.
Ah, the memories. Life is sweet...
...life is good.~cathfind me @jonesbabie on Twitter