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.
