and my heart stood still...da doo ron ron, da doo ron ron.
I was flipping channels Sunday night and there on my television screen was David Cassidy. Apparently he was on "The Celebrity Apprentice." "Was" because The Donald fired him.
Seeing David Cassidy brought me back to a second grade bout with scarlet fever, a brand new Shawn Cassidy album (You remember those big long playing records?) and a Trixie Belden mystery. How's that for a stream of consciousness?
I can "see" my room; my green gingham bedspread with matching curtains, the white canopy bed (without a canopy, because they collect dust. :P ). I remember sitting at the table eating my cereal (Lucky Charms perhaps?) when my mother did a double take. I had a lovely rash which earned me a trip to the doctor. The gentle, white-haired woman diagnosed me.
I remember getting the new album and reading the book, and spending much time tucked into bed. Usually I convalesced on the plaid couch in the living room watching PBS, the only daytime children's television in my cable-free home back in the 70s.
It's funny how seeing the brother of the boy on that album cover brought such a vivid memories rushing back and how that one book, that one album, that bedspread and the look on my mother's face when she first noticed the rash are so clear.
What will my kids remember by chance? Will it be a smiling mom or a nagging, crabby one. I'm afraid to find out. I spend a lot of time correcting and requesting and picking up dirty clothes off the floor which makes me rant sometimes.
Will it be that when *N* was sick (a stomach ache) the last time, I was giving him grief because he always seems to get sick on the 1st and 3rd Wednesday of the month, when I have somewhere to be. Will he feel like I wasn't sympathetic, as though I didn't care about him? (For the record, he was dancing around by lunchtime.)
Stream of consciousness leads to stream of awareness and it's not always pretty.
Today, I pray that I will make better use of the moments I have to build memories. The memories aren't always made on the holidays or planned trips. Sometimes the memories that stand out are random and unexpected.