In browsing the remains of my local Borders a few days before it closed, I purchased a book called “Old Friend from Far Away — The Practice of Writing Memoir” by Natalie Goldberg (author of the most-excellent “Writing Down the Bones”). I bought the book for three reasons:
1) I really like Natalie Goldberg’s work
2) I am interested in memoir and learning to write it
3) I thought the book might help inspire blog posts and (maybe) inspire me to write more.
Today’s prompt was “I Remember.” Two simple words . . . and my mind flooded with images.
I remember . . . the house in Clifton Park where I grew up and the huge sycamore tree that grew in front . . . planting a maple tree with my mother . . . endless games with my best friend, David Micklas . . . catching the school bus . . . the anticipation of Christmas and my belief that the ornaments waited each year for the moment when they would be unwrapped and put on the tree . . . my first dog, Yogi, and the last time I saw him . . . my grandmother’s funeral . . . high school graduation . . . the day my nephew Josh was born . . . my first high school crush . . . acting in school plays . . . taking driver’s education . . . turning 18 and ordering my first alcoholic beverage (a sloe gin fizz, of all things) . . . my first college crush . . . my first broken heart . . .
The memories are endless, each one inspiring another to rise to the surface of my mind. I am a tattered quilt, a mosaic composed of a bit of shattered mirror, a blood-red crescent, a sweep of midnight patterned with stars.