mystic memories

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