David Grayson
“Under My Elm”

Golden moments. How I wish I had had the presence of mind to record more of those special experiences which light up our souls and make life worth living. But alas, and sadly, most are forgotten. Not that they aren’t all worth remembering. It’s just that preserving memories, other than the simple act of making snapshots, requires effort. Occasionally, however, I will record some of those experiences which are just too precious to let go.

Recorded in my journal back in 2000:

“It was one of those golden moments I can look back on fondly now with gratitude, bittersweet though it may have been.

“At the large pet supply store the other week, I walked in the door and stopped almost immediately by what caught my attention to the right. At a pet adoption table, a small boy about 7 was clutching to his chest with sheer joy a sizable, tan-colored puppy, perhaps six months old and a labrador mix, something like that.  I stood transfixed by that brief scene of pure, unadulterated bliss, not wanting it to end.  But it was a bittersweet experience, too, in the knowledge that I never have never, nor will enjoy witnessing as a parent, not being one myself. Life is filled with many of these types of “golden” and bittersweet moments, mainly because I tend to notice more keenly that which I don’t or can’t have or experience, in a more personal sense.  It’s difficult to explain.”

Some years later when the full weight of caregiving for my mother who had dementia, had descended on me , I wanted to record some other golden moments that had recently moved me deeply.

I wrote in my journal:

“It was the middle of the night recently when my mother called and had to use the bathroom (actually the portable commode next to her bed).  I have a monitor and I can hear her from upstairs unless I am very soundly asleep, which fortunately is rare considering the caregiving responsibilities I have.   I came into the room, turned on the lamp, helped her, comforting and giving her a hug.

“I turned off the lamp and passed back through the den and stopped at the sofa where our sweet old tabbby cat, Ginger, was sleeping, now awake, and she, too, got a hug and then commenced  her deep purring.   It is during brief moments like those in the deep and quiet shelter of night, when all the outside world is asleep and the anxieties of life fade briefly, that caregiving seems very manageable.  Would that  life could always be this way — peaceful and secure.  During those fleeting and treasured moments it is, and I am thankful for that.”