Time sure is a funny thing- it has a way of sneaking up on you- stealing your hours and moments, turning them into memories of yesterday.
My memories work like one of those red picture viewers that I had as a kid (ViewMaster 3D to be accurate), where you put the round cartridge with negatives inside and click through the viewer- picture after picture, round and round. Sometimes they were animals on African plains, sometimes they were Smurfs in their perfect little Smurf village- now they're images of my past; people I once knew, places we once were, someone I used to be... all on the same cartridge flipping back and forth in my minds eye.
I hear that some people have video memories, guess I missed that upgrade.
Either way, memories and time have a way of catching up with me right around a specific few times of year. Mother's day, or the weeks leading up to it, is one of them.
I've been sifting through old images from my childhood. Family parties with epic 80's glasses that took up half of the faces of the women in my family. Feathered hair, blue eyeliner, and all of the frosted highlights and perms one could ever imagine possible. High school graduation painted with red and black school colors, nervous teenagers on the brink of the rest of their lives with truly no clue what lies ahead, no matter how hard they try to predict their own futures.
These images bring me to a time I hardly remember, almost as if it were a movie that I only saw once, with the most familiar cast.
The furniture, a funky pastel kind of floral and geometric modern, hand made curtains, because back then just about everything in my life was handmade- she was really talented like that, my mother. Back when she was our shining light of inspiration and fierce feminism.
But life is funny- days turn to weeks to months to decades, and before you know it your life has been stolen away by decisions that you don't remember making; on the fly impulses that could have been thought out better with more resources, more money, more- much more love.
I think if I died tomorrow, will have taken from this life the absolute necessity of love.
Love for yourself, for others, for animals, for mother earth...Just Love {man}.
Now before you judge the presumably hippie natured revelation...just think about it...
I truly believe its the meaning of life.
To love and be loved.
There you have it. You never need to take another class or read a self help book again- I have solved the most asked question in the universe.
You're welcome.
To get back on track here, as I flip through these snapshots of my childhood -recitals full of hot colored sequins, summertime heatwaves at Carvel's Ice Cream shop, High School in all its awkward 90's glory- all I have ever done is search for love
.....and love I have found in the strangest of places from the most incredible beings.
The pictures are heartwarming, and in my darkest moments they light my path- glowing imprints on my past that light the halls ahead- eliminating the fear of the unknown. Life is really short, we trick ourselves into thinking that we have all the time in the world, when we really only have today. Once today is over it's becomes a snapshot in our memory ViewMaster added to the collection of the past, filed accordingly to be viewed when I need direction, inspiration, and when I need to remember the love that got me here.
Be bold. Be fearless.
Love.
Happy Mother's Day to my mom as she watches over me, to my fearless full of love stepmom- and to all the moms in my life who have stepped in to light my path with their love past and present. I wouldn't be here without you.
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