Mist and memory

I have been an infrequent walker lately. The weather has turned chilly and I sometimes suffer from Warm Toasty Bed Syndrome. Sometimes I feel like if I walk I won’t have enough time to get ready for work (shower, pack a lunch, eat breakfast, etc.) in a leisurely manner. I hate to start the day frazzled. But yesterday morning I somehow managed to talk my self into it and was glad I did. It felt good to move, my body felt a sense of joy and purpose and I walked a little farther than normal. Somehow, while I was walking I was remembering our house on Jemez Trail in the desert. In the living room we would sometimes play music loud, S and I would dance while the boys goofed around or made fun of us. It was fun. We would work up a sweat. It felt happy. Suddenly, I felt a lump in my throat and my chest constrict. Tears began stinging my eyes and I found it hard to breathe.

I miss those days. A lot. We rarely dance anymore, at weddings sometimes, but almost never at home with the music loud. It just doesn’t feel the same. My body feels older and more tired. I sometimes feel as though life is being sucked from me and some days I don’t know if I can re-fill fast enough. Maybe this is just "getting old" although my mind doesn’t feel old. Maybe getting old is just having enough memories to finally start lamenting the past. Anyway, I just wanted to say that I miss those moments tremendously. I know there are more moments to come but I anticipate them less and less. I know there must be trade offs to this winding down feeling but I am not getting them yet.

Still, Thanksgiving is around the corner. And I have much to be thankful for, not the least of which is my family, my job and a nice place to live. And beyond that, Christmas looms, and with it, time with family far and near. The things I long for, the things that bring and make meaning for me are the less tangible, made seemingly more of mist and memory than anything else. I suppose they must be gifts I give to myself.