Monday, November 3, 2008
A Pocket Full of Memories
The trip that my mom and I recently took was a family trip in every possible sense. We went with a few other family members (my aunt and two cousins). We visited the place where our family lived a few generations ago. And we even met some long-lost relatives in a tearful, but joyous reunion. The memories of one particular family member became especially close to us, too. On the first day of our trip, my mom’s cousin wore a shirt that he evidently had gotten for Christmas a few years ago from his mother, but had never worn. After breakfast, he reached into his shirt pocket to get his room key, but instead he found a note and a crisp $20 bill. The note said simply, “I love you. Love, Mom.” It all had so much meaning, since his mother passed away a few years ago. We all teared up, and we imagined her watching over her son on the trip. (I also, jokingly, imagine her saying, “What took you so long to wear the shirt??”) This was such a nice reminder that the memories of those we’ve lost are never very far from us. And some lucky times, the memories are right in our front pocket.