The Memories I Want to Keep

Sometimes I wonder, how much of my beautiful life will I remember when I come to the end?

Will I remember how my husband looked when he was young? How powerful he was, how handsome, with his carpet-layers muscles and long blond hair. Will I remember my children as young ones? Will I see Jason’s tow head as he played? Will I see Joanna’s sweet gray-blue eyes under blond bangs? Will I see Joseph’s sweet face and hear his little voice? Will I remember the lake, it’s cool waters reflecting the sky? Watching my kids and grandkids learning to ski, learning to swim, and playing baseball, softball, basketball, running cross country and wrestling are great joys in my life. Will I remember their weddings, the births of my grandchildren? Will I think of how I held all their hands, their soft, sweet, sometimes sticky hands, and felt like I’d protect them all to my death?

Will I remember my funky cinder block house with the gorgeous yard and beautiful lake? Will I feel the breeze on my face, the coolness of the shade, see the sparkle of the water? Will I feel the rumble of the boat motor and the chop of the waves as I drive our boat, pulling my husband on slalom skis? Will I see the clouds float above me as I soar across the water, the sun peeking out from behind the trees?

I hope I remember the sunsets on the lake, the layers of purple, orange and pink in the clouds refected on the waters. The quiet and the sound of water lapping against the side of the boat. The dogs we have had standing at the front of the pontoon boat, sniffing the air, coming back for licks and scratches behind the ears. And Billy and I, with a cocktail, floating and relaxing and just being together after a long day, talking and laughing. And clouds like piles of whipped cream overhead and peace like a palpable thing, like a welcome friend sitting with us.

These are the memories I hope I can keep. Please God. Let it be so.