A patchwork of memories

Whenever we go to meet my parents, my husband spends hours listening to my father telling stories, explaining how things work, sharing anecdotes about his career and remembering the good old days of his youth.
Twenty seven years having lived with my parents and there are still some new things I find out about them and their lives that I had never heard before. Yes there is that occasional event or time that either of them keeps repeating on and off, thinking that it’s the first time they’re telling me and my brothers about it, forgetting the last time we nodded our heads in unison when they told us the punchline of that joke.
Yet, I am always surprised by how easily I had condensed the sixty or so years of their respective lifetimes into the patchwork of memories they had shared with us over the years, always assuming that those were the only experiences they had lived and that there is nothing new that they could tell me that I don’t already know. Every now and then I find myself astonished at something my husband thinks he’s hearing for the first time, not knowing that I had never been an audience to this adventure before either.
Only yesterday when my dad told us another tale about going fishing into the countryside, I thought about how he should have a memoir, something that my brothers and I can pass on to our kids and grandkids. Just as quickly I realized that writing a memoir will never replace the magic of storytelling we experience when such and such incident is recalled over a hasty dinner with the appropriate gestures and expressions that show exactly how excited my dad had been when he got his first watch or when he saw his grandfather hunting.
So I decided to write these memories down here, a sort of live and continuous memoir so to speak, as and when our parents share some story. I may or may not get down to compiling it in a book, but at least they’ll be here for me to keep coming back to when I forget my dad’s explanation of how a Polaroid works.

2 thoughts on “A patchwork of memories

  1. First of all, your husband is a great guy if he spends hours with your parents. You are lucky.

    Secondly, this is very well written. very fluid.

    Thirdly, you should keep writing a memoir (and eventually a book). Your husband might contribute too.

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