On the train on the way away from my house to play Savta. I have a mini-notebook (I didn’t make it out of clay) that I’m using (actually right now), but I’m not going to pull it out on the train. I am not giving up my notebook that I’ve used for over 40 years (well, maybe not the same one, but the same format). Although now that I’m trying to decipher my notes, trainy as they are, maybe it wouldn’t have been such a bad idea. But I was also reading, and the note-taking was a short break, spurts of ideas, amused.
It takes me back to when I took the train with my girls, when I was pregnant with the next, and we were going to see my sister in law school. Where did we stay? I remember the actual train ride with daughter #2 running/toddling up and down the aisles the whole time. That’s what I remember; she gets her magical memory from me, probably. I remember C’s apartment; I remember that it was full of light, a lot for a city apartment.
But that’s about it. It’s merged with memories from a few months later, baby in hand, going back to the city for a cousin’s wedding. I remember that baby watching a ceiling fan, mesmerized. Yes, that visit I remember a lot more. Why do we need to remember things? Promises to people, yes. Emotions?
Maybe not. But that is what ends up making us remember things, the scientists tell us. When you enfuse a lesson with emotion, it loads up the meaning and makes the pathways work stronger. So I just have a bag of emotions and feelings that I’ll just have to figure out how to sort while I still can.