September 1957
I am a mess when it comes to remembering dates. Birthdays may or not bubble up to the surface and receive their appropriate due, but anniversaries seem to fall into the big-pit-of-irretrievable-data portion of my brain. Each September 14th, for example, comes and goes without my remembering that it's my parents' wedding anniversary. My father died 20 years ago, but still somehow my sister Kathie manages to remember each year and call my mom on that date.
I forgot again this year. So, in an attempt to make some level of recompense for my date-addled brain, I thought I'd take a moment here to acknowledge the happy confluence of their two lives. Looking at their picture takes my breath away -- they were so young (my mom was 19 and my dad was 22), so beautiful, so in love. I wish with all my heart that I could tell both of them "Happy anniversary" in person. And that I will remember to tell my mom next year.
I am a mess when it comes to remembering dates. Birthdays may or not bubble up to the surface and receive their appropriate due, but anniversaries seem to fall into the big-pit-of-irretrievable-data portion of my brain. Each September 14th, for example, comes and goes without my remembering that it's my parents' wedding anniversary. My father died 20 years ago, but still somehow my sister Kathie manages to remember each year and call my mom on that date.
I forgot again this year. So, in an attempt to make some level of recompense for my date-addled brain, I thought I'd take a moment here to acknowledge the happy confluence of their two lives. Looking at their picture takes my breath away -- they were so young (my mom was 19 and my dad was 22), so beautiful, so in love. I wish with all my heart that I could tell both of them "Happy anniversary" in person. And that I will remember to tell my mom next year.