Tethered Memories

Music:  CAKE – Pressure Chief – Palm Of Your Hand

Drink:  Woodford Reserve

Some years ago, inspired by my girlfriend at the time, I began a blog.  It has since sat dormant for many years collecting e-dust as it was simply abandoned.  Perhaps it’s that life became too busy.  Maybe it’s that I’m married now and have a spouse to bounce my musings off of and no longer require a public processing space.  Or, like so many other things in my life, what began with strength and promise fell into disrepair and became a trophy on my “Wall of Incompl”.

Regardless of the reason, there it sits.  And for a time I was content with that.  It just wasn’t a priority for me.  My wife tried to encourage me to return to it as she enjoyed both my writing and my having a medium for it.  As much as my wife’s encouragement is desired and appreciated, in this case it held no weight.  It was like encouraging me to take a class on weaving the net for a soccer goal.  It was nice to hear, but why would I do that?

But as the dust collected on the blog, an itch began to grow (Do itches grow?  Increase?  An itch showed up?).  A collection of thoughts worth sharing and processing publicly started to outgrow its allotted mental space.

One of my traits is that I’m not nostalgic.  While there’s nothing wrong with that (it makes cleaning the house very easy; Christmas cards get a read and then they’re filed in the trash), it doesn’t help that without a memento of some kind, I forget.  Many a memory worth saving has been lost because photographs were never taken, or the ones that were are gone (sometimes by chocie), and souvenirs associated with various events have since taken up residence in a landfill.

Certain memories don’t need a tangible reminder; they become a seamless part of your being.  That night that your mutual affection for each other became undeniably apparent.  Seeing your newborn learn how to roll over for the very first time.  Watching your grandfather’s body lose its desperate grip on its last moments of life.  I can’t lose these memories unless I lose myself, for I am their reminder; they are attached to me.

But the former category, those memories lost without an anchor that are slowly losing shelf space, they need a home where they can be recalled and observed.

As I hate taking up room in the house with trinkets, this is the perfect solution.  I can express myself through written word, my favorite medium.  This won’t take up any physical room in my home (save the paper I may print it on for posterity in case the servers go down).  I won’t have just a few segments or abstract shapes of a moment, I’ll be able to read what was important enough to record in detail.

So here it is.  My external memory drive.  The joys and sorrows in life I wish to share and preserve in being a husband, a father, and a bourbon enthusiast.  May we learn together as we experience and remember together.

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