What is Worthy of Our Memory

There was the moon when it was the color of mango flesh.

The dog who nearly fell over with excitement when she saw me.

And a folk song about summer roads that I could listen to all night long.

How my mother knows that I like bananas more brown than green.

And the barista who gave me a cup with the extra milk after she steamed too much.

These are a collection of small sweets. Easily forgotten points of beauty on the map of a common day.

I could run over them, past them in the haste of ordinary life.

They probably won’t make it into any year-end highlights or holiday letters. If I only saw you every so often, I’d be more likely to tell you about the relationship that went sour than the grocery store owner who always remembers my name.

But I have decided I want to be an active participant in what fills my memory. For our time is the sum of things both large and little.

I am sharing these small sweets with you to commemorate them. I want to lift them up into the higher shelf of my consciousness, the shelf I draw from when I think back over a day, a season, a couple of years.

So much of our minds are made up of what we remember. And I’ve come to believe that these small sweets are worthy of our memory.

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