Memories

We were lying in the grass together late one warm May morning, under the big oak in the yard. The sun shone through the gaps, and as the leaves rustled back and forth in the breeze, the light danced across her face. She got up, sat on my chest, and smiled down to me. Her light brown hair was still disheveled from a good night’s rest, and I remember the oak behind her, leaves swaying, sunlight shimmering through. I remember the sound of the leaves. She leaned down and kissed me, eyes still smiling, then told me she loved me.

When I have a few minutes to spare, I like to reminisce about the past, to remember things I haven’t thought of in years. If you really sit there for a few minutes and think about it, you can recall some long-lost memories and relive them in detail. Your brain stores all the sights, sounds, and feelings of your past, but it can be tricky to access them.

What works for me is to think of an age, a time in my life, or a significant event in my life, then envision the setting. Explore the environment in your mind. Imagine walking down the street of your old neighborhood. Look at each house in your mind’s eye, feel the pavement under your feet, notice the landscaping. As you remember different features of the environment, the corresponding memories come to you, and you can spend time remembering and reminiscing.

Some of the things that come to you are amazing. Something as simple as the texture of the tile floor in your old kitchen can bring back the same emotions you experienced at that time in your life.

Before I wrote the last paragraph I thought about my five-year-old life, in a community in Miami, Florida called Lakeridge. I envisioned my backyard, and I thought about my grandmother’s backyard where I used to fish when I was a bit older and we had moved to a different neighborhood. As I envisioned the scenery, I recalled a time an old woman yelled at me from across the no-fishing lake: “THERE IS NO FISHING ON THE LAKE! NO FISHING IS ALLOWED!” An old man from a different house yelled at her, “AHHHHH, SHUT UP!” My grandmother laughed her ass off.

And now I remember a kid in my neighborhood, an Indian kid named Vishell. I don’t know if that’s how it’s spelled, but it was pronounced VEE-SHELL. He had a bmx bike, was a bit older than I, and I thought he was cool because he used to ride his bike around and do jumps and stuff. He was charismatic, sociable, and happy. I wonder what he’s up to. I wonder if he remembers me, or if he’s even alive.

I remember the different colored plastic cups I used to drink from. Yellow, red, green, hexagonal on the bottom 2/3rds, transitioning to circular at the top. I remember the condensation forming on the outside, and the sound they made when they were empty and I put them on the counter. I remember the brown tile floor and the brown cabinets. And I remember how it felt to be me at that time in my life.

I haven’t thought of any of those things in many, many years, but just by imagining and reminiscing for a few minutes, I was able to relive pleasant experiences long gone. Reminiscing is also a great thing to do with a significant other. You learn things about each other that may otherwise take months or years to figure out, and it’s a lot of fun. Give it a shot, and you’ll be pleasantly surprised by what you remember.