Memories, Music and Milk
Memories are fascinating, aren’t they? I have often wondered why we remember the things we do?
Why is it I can remember a trivial little thing from 1980 but I have no clue what I had for dinner last Tuesday?
Music, movies, colors and smell all ignite a memory. Give me sawdust and I’m a kid in my grandfather’s shop. Fill the kitchen with the smell of roast beef and suddenly it’s Sunday night and tomorrow’s school.
A couple of weeks ago I decided to play a game. What is the earliest memory I can think of and how early was it?
I tried music but that wouldn’t do. Those early memories had little effect with music. So I had to come up with something else.
I looked at pictures of people, I even tried a whiff of sawdust but nothing from my early days came to mind.
I gave up on the game and moved on. No since trying to force a memory if it just wasn’t happening.
But a few days later an odd thing happened.
Milk and Memories
I came home from the store and was putting milk in the refrigerator. In that moment my mind pushed forward and released a hidden memory.
Suddenly I’m riding in my grandfather’s old grey truck. I could not see over the dashboard. The ride was bumpy. The sky blue and I wanted to stand to see where we were going.
The truck stopped and the passenger door creaked open. It was a long way down and I remember his big hands placing me on the ground.
The smell of farm filled the air.
The Giant Milk Jug
I could see cows, hey, goats and cats. An old tractor stood in the distance and stranger waved from a farm house.
I remember a giant glass container that appeared to be as big as me. It sat next to my feet and appeared just as confused as I. We stood inside a giant cold room where I stood near something that looked like a facet.
I suddenly felt excitement followed by anticipation. I looked up to my grandfather as he smiled and gave orders to turn the knob.
Milk suddenly appeared as my eyes grew wide watching the container fill to the top. Suddenly his hand appeared and stopped it, inches from flowing over.
It was amazing and in a way it still is.
My Aunt to the rescue
I was curious how old this memory was so I called the only person who might know.
At first my aunt didn’t believe me. That was a long time ago, she explained. That was old man Pearson’s barn and dad use to get free milk every week.
As I gave more detail she understood it was a memory and an old one at that. Her best guess I was three, maybe younger.
I found it hard to believe. I never thought we formed memories at such a young age but if that’s true, why that particular memory?
Why was the flowing milk so special? The cows, the goats and the smell? Why were they able to survive in this head of mind?
Memories are amazing, aren’t they? They come to visit like an old friend. Some stay for a while others leave and never come back.
Whatever they do they carry a journey from a long ago time that is special and full of wonder. It is a mystery I will never tire of.
Happy Friday Everyone!!!