Memory

As I sit rocking my newest grandchild, I am filled with a sense of elation, rising in my soul like the sun at the horizon. It is triggered by the fragrance of something long forgotten, floating through my memory-wafting, drifting, fleeting as mist at sunrise. It has taste and smell and texture, yet remains untouchable. The momentary feeling that washed over me vanishes and leaves me hungry for more. I close my eyes and tempt it back.

There is openness and sunshine and the smell of earth after a rain. There is the warmth of sun on my skin and the brush of wind on my cheek. There is movement in a green canopy to my left, against a bright blue sky, as the leaves sway. There is the distant sound of laughter and the croak of a frog, quickly followed by a splash. The meadow grass tall around me gives way to the rush of my body, as I hurry along, toward the sound of laughter. I stop, turn and look up into the cloud free blue. The flaming red kite with its bright yellow tale bounces gaily above me. My face is small and round and tan, with a smile of joy only a child could form. My dark hair is long and twists in the wind, catching the sunlight and bouncing it back.

As hard as I try to focus the memory and bathe my soul in its warmth, it vanishes, leaving only traces of color, scent and sound at its parting. Those moments of time, when innocence knows all possibilities, sees no boundaries and allows life to simply be lived are rare and precious. As time moves us toward our ultimate destiny, we are blessed that we can still touch these memories, feel these feelings and know these sensations-even for a moment so brief. They remind us we are still living and of our connection with those who will follow the paths we have traveled. We see our faces in the faces of our children and our grandchildren. We see our dreams and hopes in their bright smiling eyes-and our immortality is carried in their souls.