Americana

I find myself in a never-ending quest to find and acquire little bursts of memory that I can add to the growing slide show in my brain: the old man sitting on a bench in front of a hardware store in a July so hot wind is a cruel curse; a group of children sending kite after kite into the azure sky; the gentleman I met for a moment at a roadside stand who sold me a jar of pickled okra.

In each of these instances, something deep inside reminded me to "click the shutter" as it were, and save the image for posterity. Over time, however, the images warp and grow idealized as all memories do. I forget the look of exasperation on the old man's face and replace it with one of joy; the wind never fails on that summer day and the kites never fall; the man at the roadside stand never had to scrape by for money.

On Saturday I found another slide. My four-year old niece was practicing for her first T-ball game at the park. Their was a Fun Day organized too, which meant you could throw darts at balloons and spin wheels for prizes. Little kids ran and waddled across the field, heading toward rides with tickets clutched eagerly in hand. At one point, I forced myself to spin around and capture the entire panorama. It is sitting there in my head, ready and waiting for the next time I want to see it. Only next time it'll be a slightly different image. Thankfully, the feeling itself will not change.

Here's hoping you find several moments of your own that remind you of why we're put on this earth.