Anne's post on her "nearly perfect day" is just lovely. It's sparked off a bunch of associations in my mind (we seem to do that to one another on occasion - pretty cool).
I know that I have had nearly perfect days myself. They're rare. Two examples just popped into my mind ... I'll write more on them later. Intense memories reside primarily in the senses. It's not the outward events of the day that come to mind - at least not immediately. What comes to mind first - the first flash - is the sunshine gleaming on the Washington Arch, the cold Ginger Ale we drank, the sound of the ocean waves on the rocks, running barefoot across a field to catch a Frisbee ... The events themselves come later. Past events are intellectual, we have turned them into story-lines, and so they live in the chronological mind. But the memories themselves? They live in the sensitivity of fingertips, of smell, of sight, of colors, a snippet of music ...
It's a cool thing to contemplate, even though it comes a long with a bit of wistfulness.
Posted by sheila