posted on Nov, 21 2019 @ 08:32 PM
I just had a conversation with my Mother that stirred up some old memories for the both of us.
We had dinner at my Brother's house, and one of his young sons did something the both of us thought was disrespectful, and normally I would call him
out on it, but I was just too tired and was not up to the battle. On the way home my Mother stated that she was surprised that I hadn't said
anything, but she understood why I hadn't.
She went on to say that one of these days my nephew would think back on these days and he will regret them. She started telling me a story of how when
she was nine years old, she had mouthed off to her mom, and how the look on her Mother's face stopped her dead in her tracks. She retold the story
with a quivering voice and tears in her eyes.
I told her I knew exactly what she meant, because it brought up the memory of the time my teenage self decided I was going to stand up to my Father,
just for the sake of teenage defiance, and having my heart ripped out of my chest when my Dad didn't fight with me. I remember his dropping to sit on
the bed like all life had been drained from him, and the look of pain on his face, with the sparkle in his eyes from the tears that were starting to
form. I can still feel the pain I felt in my chest, and tears still form in my eyes just talking about it.
It made me think about those things that we do in our lives that follow us to the end. Those things that you can relive in technicolor, as if it was
happening in real time, and that you never forget.