These last few days saw the passage of two necessary landmarks I trip on every single year. On April 1st I celebrated 13 years since the day of my graduation [yes, I graduated on April Fool’s day – now I know it was a full-frontal omen] and on April 11th – yesterday – I celebrated 37 years since the day of my birth.
I love to count time. When I was little, I had this habit: I would take mental photographs of moments that struck me particularly and hold them in my thoughts as time-trackers. I would count back toward them and try to dissect the strange feeling it gave me to see that something present and real would morph into past and eventually fall out of my memory, gone.
I took one of the mental photos I remember most clearly on the day of my brother’s christening. I was 9, we had already left the house to go to church when I realized I forgot my purse. My mother allowed me to go get it, I dashed back into my room and stopped cold at what I saw. Continue reading