May 16, 2021— San Pedro Town, Ambergris Caye, Belize
We are in Belize for a month, hanging out with our son, daughter-in-law and their soon-to-be-born baby boy. Waiting for a birth is kind of like waiting out the pandemic—a little peaceful, a little boring and (for me) full of the sense that maybe I should be doing more with this special time—or maybe not.
There is something about being around my adult children that prompts me to start every other sentence with, “I remember…”. My repetition of old stories is so unnecessary it bores even me. Sometimes my “kids” nod their heads knowingly because they have heard it before. Sometimes they head me off with an “oh yeah.” I can occasionally stop myself with the reminder that I am retelling this memory because it makes me happy and not because anyone else really cares.
IF YOU DON’T SHARE FOOD WITH HIM.
I once had a conversation with a guy who told me about something he and his wife had done to “make memories.” That struck me as a really dumb concept. People have memories or they don’t. Why would you set out to “make” some? I have thought about that conversation for years and last week came upon an article in my e-mail about that very subject. It seemed from its title that it was going to be a lengthy essay that was probably a little too intellectual for my taste, but I kept it around because I thought it would be a useful reference for today’s blog. And now I can’t remember where I saved it. Perhaps it might be a good idea to try to “make” at least a few memories.
HAVE A GOOD WEEK!
