A couple years ago I started a new category for “I remember ” that consisted of posts I’d written about childhood memories. The idea, or the project – if you will, has recently re-implanted in my head. Last week my mom was moved to a “memory center” located nearly four hours away. My children haven’t seen their grandmother J. in almost two months. I plan on visiting in a couple weeks, and I thought I would let my daughter, who is now 7, interview her to foster some bonding. Of course, life events like this make me realize how little my children know about me beyond what they see right now.
I have always accepted that someday this blog would be for my kids to read. I hope it’s after I’m dead so the reciprocal embarrassment is not an issue. I also want them to read a post, turn to each other with eyes wide, and remark, “I had never heard that story!”
This series of “I remember…” will be centered on what I remember about all of the kids I went to school with. Our graduating class consisted of approximately 22 students. Some of their names and faces I can see as clear as the screen in front of me; others not so much. 90% of them I haven’t seen or talked to in 30 years. While it’s a given that all of the posts I’ve already written are personal, these upcoming posts will be so personal, it’s unlikely to mean anything to anyone other than to the two people I’m writing it for. Fair warning.
I plan on using real names except I’ll omit last names. This is not out of courtesy for the person I’ll be writing about, but out of the continued desire for privacy on my part. You will never see my real name in a byline on my blog or the names of my husband or children. Each story will center around one person. I’ll admit that may mean I might squeeze out only a couple of sentences. On the other hand, some stories might be 1,000+ words. I would love to include pictures, except by a cruel twist of fate, nearly all my personal photos from my childhood as well as my yearbooks were stolen from me by a housemate in an act of revenge almost three decades ago and were never recovered.
God, that nearly makes me cry just writing it out.
ETA: My children won’t even be able to read any of this if I can’t even remember the URL or username of my blog. Don’t even ask me how many attempts it took to log in.