Tuesday, March 28, 2006

Pieces of time

Life is a series of moments.

So said a sign on a church a few years back. And it is true. Think about it. Whose life plays like a continuous TV movie of the week? Certainly not mine, thank ya very much.

It's the little things you remember. Dad setting up a toy train set on the kitchen table. The first day of school. The time you sang "All Shook Up" in front of your peers and they actually clapped.

Little things like that.

Your first kiss, exhilarating and awkward. Your first love. That girl back in high school you always wanted to ask out but never did.

A random baseball game. The Braves win 21-5. Kent Mercker pitches. Remember the score. Can't remember what year. Maybe '95.

The first time you read Hemingway. Your first fish. The first time you heard "He Stopped Loving Her Today."

The last time you saw her. The smell of her perfume. That stupid look on your face when she brushed you off, in public, for no reason.

Summer afternoons in the back yard, beautiful blue summer afternoons that never seemed to end. Beating Florida 45-3. Fighting with your sister over everything and nothing at all.

The beautiful blonde-haired girl who struck up a conversation at the express lube. The server at Aubrey's who smiled at you and oh so briefly set your soul on fire. You thought about her the rest of the afternoon.

The snowman that melted away to nothing. Sneaking up to the lake to fish on a forgotten October morning. The time you laughed so hard you cried at some movie you can't remember.

Christmas mornings with the family. Birthday parties with the best friends in the world. The time you struck out. The time you hit a home run.

"Magnum, p.i." "True Grit," for the 400th time. The first time you stared deeply into her beautiful eyes. Tiger Stadium, before they tore it down.

Wading naked into the pond to recover your dropped cell phone. The jerk next door who "borrowed" a video game and never brought it back. Getting a whuppin. Getting another one.

Chocolate milk shakes. That blonde in the bikini at Myrtle Beach. The day Nixon and Reagan passed away. The night you stole a kiss just before her grandmother came in the door.

Barry Manilow. Alison Krauss. Hag and Harry, George and Alan. 8-tracks. iPods. Hooking the record player up to the extension cord. Keeping quiet so you don't wake the baby up.

Getting a job. Losing your mind. Coming home. Those big beautiful eyes. (OK, I said that one already.)

The little things. A series of moments.

Some long forgotten. Some you can't forget.

2 Comments:

Blogger Dewayne said...

keeping quiet so you don't wake the baby up?!?---What HAVE you been up to my friend?

Nice post btw.

7:09 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

....I think ths could quite possibly be one of my favorites reads from you...

Curiosity makes me wonder who has those big beautiful eyes...

10:05 AM  

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