Kate is getting to that age when I remember what it was like to be her age. My good memory goes back about six months and then life in the past gets real spotty. The spots are hit and miss memories of events defined by extreme tragedy, suffering or joy, and then some random things that I can’t explain why I remember. This is pretty normal for most people, I bet. Ask me how I spent this day last year and I wouldn’t be able to tell you…nor how I spend my 28th birthday. I would have to sit for a few minutes with Ben by my side giving me clues or something.
Collective memory is important in context of community. What I can’t remember, my husband and friends can remember for me. I digress, though. Kate is turning two in December, and I have little fluttering, faded memories of what life was like for me when I was two. Pictures help, of course, and pictures spark memories of life surrounding the event in the pictures.
I imagine the older Kate gets, the more her life is going to spark memory of what my life was like when I was young. (I still am pretty young, but old enough to forget what life was like!)
Here’s one for ya. I married someone that looks like my father when he was young. That doesn’t happen very often.