Fading Memories

We’ve just barely crossed the seven month mark in our new house. It’s been incredibly trying. I suppose our biggest mistake was to take things for granted. We took residence in November and by January we were both unemployed. I was already by choice and it had never crossed our minds that Gary would be laid off with his talent and years put in to the company. In the two months we had been in the house, it was repainted and remodeling plans were made; take a wall out here, enlarge the master there, move the kitchen and lavish myself with new cabinets and appliances. I suppose our greatest stroke of luck was that we procrastinated on many of our plans and thankfully the ones that took the most money.

Even though it’s been, I think, the hardest times we’ve been through they have been the best. I spend my twilight hours lying in bed just thinking and relaxing my mind. Gary is usually fast asleep before I even begin to tire so it gives me time to think and ponder events of the day or even thoughts that run through my haphazard mind I don’t have time for during the waking hours. Tonight I lied there trying to remember what life was like before we moved, and whether it’s been my recent bout with insanity or just the simple pleasures of our new found life, I couldn’t remember.

I still have strong memories of my childhood home, our pond or the menagerie of animals that populated our two acres, even the house I spent the rest of my years after my mothers remarriage I can recall vividly and easily; yet the five years I spent living with Gary in my hometown are hard to recall. It’s not that those five years are lost to me. I still have memories; hardly any of them though, encompass our neighborhood or house. Most of them are of camping trips, late nights at the race track, or Jegs hanging out. We were both living in a house we didn’t want, the only reason it was bought was to keep peace in a marriage that didn’t last anyway. And we hated the neighborhood. We had good neighbors though. I still miss Ben and Jen fiercely sometimes. And Alison from across the street was one of my only confidants. But we were stifled there. Our back yard was a sparse piece of grass that only took ten minutes to push mow and trim; seven if the dog would cooperate and get out of the way, and because of the small yard and the close proximities of the houses there were six foot privacy fences all around and a severe sense of being enclosed like a caged animal.

Last night we had a bonfire in our back yard, there were five other families having their own, our street looked like a calling of the clans. It was relaxing to say the least. Even though there were competing radio stations, and you could hear the other groups there was enough space and darkness there was privacy to it all even with out the fences. These are the memories and the images that for some reason find residency in my mind. The simple pleasure of a bonfire on a cool night, friends, conversation, and beer, simple as they might be I think these are some of the greatest pleasures life has to offer, and the reason my memories have faded so fast.