“We didn’t realize we were making memories. We just knew we were having fun.”
from Not Without My Father by Andra Watkins.
In the photo L-R: Alice Guess, Andra Watkins, Roy Watkins
I gaze into my squinty eyes almost two years after Mom snapped this photo, and I’m glad I didn’t know what was coming. I expected pain but not crushing agony, obstacles but not superhuman impossibilities, irritation but not a trial of my flimsy soul.
I’m glad I was clueless. Ignorant. Even idiotic.
Photographs like this one seldom happened before Dad and I began our five-week journey. Maybe his hijinks injected the proceedings with lightness and hope when I quaked in my leggings, cropped from the bottom lip of the photo. Down there where no one can see.
Screens can’t capture everything.
Our memories convert moments into brain movies, images we string together for recall. I remember how the sun glared as it rose over the tree line across the street. The slightest slope of concrete. The rightward listing of the car when Dad called shotgun and Alice took the wheel. I can still feel my heart wallop the inside of my ribcage as we floated down my parents’ driveway.
Too late to say I was joking about a marathon walk. Petrified of spending five weeks with a man I barely tolerated. I painted the world with preconceived notions to sweeten the unknown. To keep me headed westward.
To plow toward memories
that would alter me for all time.
When was the last time you were making memories AND having fun? I’d love to hear from you.
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Photograph Credit: Andra Watkins
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8 Comments
We made memories this weekend. Friends flew into Portland from Houma, Louisiana just to watch me sign a few books and play four songs in Cannon Beach. I was utterly flabbergasted and pleased beyond measure. Truly, I will never forget my Saturday evening. I had no idea. None. Nada. Nope. But there they were. For a guy who was the center of attention it was a very humbling experience.
Crazy how time flies! Can you believe it’s been nearly 2 years since your epic walk? Amazing!
I agree with NancyTex. Time does fly.
I love those times with family and friends where you’re not conscious of what you’re doing. Only the fact that you’re together and having a good time. I haven’t done anything momentous lately. I’ve watched movies with friends and shared laughs over a meal or over tea at my favorite tea shop. But that’s the good thing about making memories, isn’t it? You share daily life with someone.
Mike and I made a memory this weekend. We took an 11 mile hike up (and I do mean up) a snow crusted road. We started out with heavy hearts as we were traveling to where the fire was this summer. The loggers have been logging so we wanted to see what it looked like under all that white. Hoping that it would look so much better than the black devastation that we witnessed summer of 2015. We walked in companionable silence, uttering few words as we took in the silence, save for the constant crunching of our feet on the snow…and my occasional utterance of a foul word as I would slip and slide. We took Mike’s brand new .45-70 rifle (in the hopes of doing some target practicing), and I always carry my ,45 (just in case a cougar (or anything else) wants to make a meal of us). We went up and up and up, looking across the hill at the white sticks where trees used to be. Finally we made it up to the flat where we always site in our guns…there were three large piles of logs with two spires at the top. He shot, then I shot. Due to the cost of this particular ammunition two shots were all we allowed ourselves (just two shells were $4.00). I hit my mark! Yay. Then we trudged onward. The devastation is prettier all white covered…until you get to the part where they’ve logged and there are no trees. None. With heavy hearts we turned around and began trudging back to the cabin and then, silence, and the big flakes began to fall. Tears were falling down my face as I lifted it up to the sky…and both Mike and I opened our mouths and stuck out our tongue…oh the taste of my childhood. We looked at each other and smiled. We walked all the way down the mountain with our face lifted to the sky to watch the big flakes come down and land on our cheeks and eyelashes. It was such a beautiful moment(s)….then I slipped and fell and laughed and laughed and laughed….then I slipped and fell again – and still I laughed. My heart was lifted as we both feel we were given a beautiful gift. We’ve talked about that hike and it affected both of us in a very beautiful and positive way.
I’ve learned to be in the moment a lot more than I ever have been and I owe that to you Andra. Thank you for opening my eyes to what has been there the whole time. Intention. Moments. Life.
Andra, I made many memories over the holiday season…spending four days with cookie batter and the mountain of dishes; decorating the apartment and tree with someone who loves Christmas as much as I do; the endless potlucks and sweet treats shared with friends and co-workers; spending time with mom, my brother and the girlfriend over Christmas, drinking beer and Manhattans (Mom got drunk with one drink) (she’s slowing down), eating way too much food and sharing gifts that were purchased from the heart; and spending New Year’s Eve on the couch after a visit to the video store and local pizzaria. December was a fabulous month and I’m looking ahead to more great memories in 2016. First, though, we have to get past this month and next, when not much happens except the wearing of long underwear and cursing of the cold.
It’s fun to read these posts having already read your book (well, listened to it!). You gave us a glimpse into your world, and that’s always fun for readers.
Beautiful picture. I traveled to Detroit to be with my sister as she celebrated the life of her deceased partner. We took the occasion to visit our parents grave and both felt at peace with the lives we were given and the graciousness of their love. Snow, sleet and then rain gave us the opinion our parents were saying, “Run along and play. No sorrow here.”
My last time was when I took my Niece swimming a few weeks ago, and we spent three hours climbing out of the deep end so we could jump in again together, holding hands, making ‘love star’ shapes. She dived, I caught her. We both dived, I caught her. She swam little ways and sunk me and I tore her out of my hair and stood on the bottom of the pool so I could shove her back towards the side so I could swim up and breathe again.
It was GLORIOUS. My eyes were red with chlorine for the next two days, and my knees were very bruised from all the climbing out onto them. It was totally worth it.
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