Reminiscing

Last Thursday evening I was driving back to Plano from a work trip to Austin (I love Austin, in case you couldn’t tell from the name of my blog). Somewhere in the nothingness between Hillsboro and Waxahachie – which I’m sorry but really aren’t much more than nothingness themselves, but I digress – I caught a whiff of nature. No, not a skunk, but that smell of wildflowers, trees, and grass intermingled. I wish I could explain this smell better, but I really don’t know what it is. I do, however, know what it brings to mind. I don’t remember exactly when, but somewhere between the ages of 8-12 I rode horses, along with my mom and sister. I admit that I really wasn’t that interested in the riding, mainly because it involved a lot of work mucking stalls, washing down the horse, cleaning the equipment, and on and on, hours of this all for about thirty minutes of riding. Or so it seemed to me at that age. So instead I tended to wander around the fields exploring and making up my own games in my head. I loved these times in the summer, completely free, wandering the fields, no worries, knowing that on the way home we might stop for a snow cone (coconut was the best, but why was it so bright blue, I mean have you ever seen a blue coconut) and that later I’d have baseball practice or, better yet, a game. That string of thoughts sent my mind reminiscing about summer’s as a kid. Fireworks on the 4th of July, baseball practice in a field where me and my friends would throw Indian spears (that’s what we called these weeds with very pointy ends) at each other, baseball games after which all the players would run to the concession stand for a free drink (I always got a suicide, a mix of all the flavors they had), even the later years of my childhood driving around with my friends, working at the movie theater, but I’m sure I’m boring you. There are many stories in these things I’ve mentioned, and hopefully I’ll write some of them down, because it’s fun to remember. Which brings me back to a thought I had as I was reminiscing – why do most of the things we remember seem so pleasant? Is it a form of self-preservation, letting go of the pain or blocking it so we can move forward? I remember times when I was hurt, physically or emotionally, but even those are now fond memories in most cases, like a trial I survived. Anyway, I don’t know the answer, but I sure do enjoy the benefits.