It's kinda fuzzy

If you have one of those amazing memories filled with important things like the actual DAY you joined your church, graduated from college, met your husband . . . as well as your first telephone number, the address of the first place you lived after college, or dorm room number: wow.

I'm not that person.

Facts kind of float away from me as time passes, making room for the here and now. I can't remember the street we lived on (well, we lived on 13 different streets as we moved from air base to air base), the names of the neighbors in Kirkwood (our first house as newly marrieds) my children's preschool teachers' names (unless I check their scrapbooks). I forget names, volunteer jobs, the ways and means of fundraising campaigns I've led, and so many other details of my life.

It's not that I don't care. I have a dozen scrapbooks that prove otherwise. It's just that my brain is FULL.

There are so many details to tend to in the present that I've had to tuck away the past into some synaptic files that are gathering dust with each passing year. 

Which brings me to this morning. We were gathered at church over a tasty luncheon sharing our beginnings as a get-to-know-you activity. Memories I thought were well out of mind came quickly to the forefront as we shared backstories about first impressions and why we finally chose to join St. Luke's. I was quite happy that details were right there when I needed them.

So I'm feeling better about hazy history.