Things I want to remember...

A week of small glimmers

I often find myself in front a screen, mostly for work, but in many other circumstances as well. Screens are such an ingrained part of our nature in this present day. (Aren’t we all?) I catch myself scrolling more often than I’d like to admit, and even some of the joys – like writing this piece, editing photos, or watching a TV show with my husband – involve me sitting in front of a screen. But it feels like the more time I spend with eyes glued to black boxes, the more my days are indistinguishable from one another. When I look back, my days are often meshed together, and I can't remember a thing.

Ironically, I was scrolling on Instagram last week, when I stumbled across this poem from Sophie Ansari that resonated with me.

“Last week could be last month
or last month could be yesterday
I’d still be sitting at a screen
I don’t need thrill for thrill’s sake
I’d just like to recall my days..."
- Sophie Ansari 

I would like to recall my days, too.

I want to remember the coolness of the air creeping in, signaling that winter is coming. I want to remember the morning before work where my eyes could barely stay open, and Caleb wrapped his arms around me tight, holding me before the chaos of the day started. I want to remember baking a warm pie on a Sunday, November evening.

The weeks and the weekends just keep going by faster and faster, how can I remember them all? It’s all such a blur. Sometimes it’s hard to remember what I did yesterday, let alone last week. For the past three years, I’ve kept a photo journal on my phone to help me see my days in images. It’s the only thing that has really help me see what my months, weeks, and days consist of. Even if it is just a screenshot I took of a quote, or a picture of myself on a Zoom call, it triggers a memory, an “ah yes, that was that day…” or “that was that moment.”

This this week, in addition to photos, I took a little notebook with me everywhere I went and jotted down the things I noticed and wanted to remember. I wrote down the moments and memories that I’d like to keep as treasures in my heart. I thought I’d share them here.

Monday, October 28

I want to remember the crispness of the air while going on an autumn morning walk with my pup, Luna. How the red leaves that were so bright just a few days before, have surrendered to the ground. I want to remember how I stood in the sunlight and was still while I could hear traffic and busyness hum up around me. I heard the world begin on a Monday morning, while I was still holding on to sleepiness and Sunday. I want to remember the walk back home, the church bells playing, ringing nine times as the clock strikes the hour. And opening the door to a warm house. Making a second cup of coffee before I open my computer and start the day.

Tuesday, October 29

I want to remember driving to the post office with Caleb, early in the morning. Shipping off a roll of 35 mm film to Alabama to get developed, crossing my figures it makes it safely.

I want to remember the hues of orange outside my bedroom window. I want to remember my pup laying on our quilted bed spread, and the hole in it that she chewed a few days ago that I still need to mend. All my clothes laying out at the end of the bed, and me trying to decide what to wear. The light blue jeans, the pink knitted sweater with fridge at the bottom, gray sweat pants, a green waffle knit jacket, and a periwinkle t-shirt.

I want to remember the walk I took this evening. My husbands eyes the color of the horizon. Today was the day columbines harvested the corn by the track we walk around. Stripping grain to the earth.

Wednesday, October 30

I want to remember the strong breeze that played with my hair on my lunch break. Taking a walk on campus with Caleb to find a quiet spot to eat our dinner leftovers from the night before. Yellow leaves overhead, and squirrels jumping from branch to branch.

Thursday, October 31

I want to remember the spider that spun it’s web in the corner of our porch to welcome trick-or-treaters. I want to remember the way it lightly rained in the afternoon, a candle lit, and the windows cracked open to hear to pitter patter and the wind blow by. I want to remember how we dressed up our pup and passed out candy. I want to particularly remember the starts that were illuminating the sky. It’s Halloween night, yet I’m not afraid to be in the dark.

Friday, November 1

I want to remember the breakfast Caleb and I had at a cafe close by. He ordered a lox and caper bagel, and I a bowl of yogurt with blueberries and granola. We sat there, unplugged from technology for 20 minutes, looking out the window to the fresh day ahead. We both work from home today. After getting back to the house, we sat on the couch and opened our computers to start off the work day. In the afternoon, we picked up our pup from the vet. She had a small surgery, but was so lovey and doing well, giving us kisses and wanting to snuggle close to our faces.

Saturday, November 2

I helped capture an author event for Wild Geese Bookshop, my favorite bookstore in town. It took place at a church just around the corner from my house. I arrived just in time to see the church pews full of people, waiting to hear the author speak. I raise the camera to my eye, the shutter clicking as I take a photo. I hadn’t read Kendra Adachi’s work before, but oh were her words so sweet. “Live like you are a painting,” Adachi shared. “Not like you are assembling a puzzle. Not even a paint-by-number. Your life can be like painting, fluid, open, creative, and human.” I want to remember that.

Sunday, November 3

The weekend went by so fast. I turn around and it was just Friday. Even with one extra hour from the clocks moving back, there just isn’t enough time to go around. It is also November and the days are getting darker. Surrendering to darkness, we light candles, make a chicken pot pie, and snuggle under blankets to watch Frasier. We’re in for the night.