My Favorite Memory

 

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My Favorite Memory

by Virginia Carraway Stark

Now written in stone, ink or even pencil

My favorite memory flits from a scene

In still life, vivid oil colors or a water color

With seeping edges, blurring the lines

Of individuals into a collage of color and sights

My favorite memory is most likely my first memory

When I watched a feather on a breeze and felt

Such awe at each little bit of white, each bit of down

Picked out and vivid in its detail still

Because I thought at that moment

That this was a special bit of magic

The voice of the universe itself talking to me

I was very young, around two

It had never occurred to me before that memory

Was for keeps

Maybe it was a hint from the universe

Or my own brain growing a little bit smarter

I reached out with my mind and snatched that moment

I had learned something new and wonderful

It was the video recorder of my mind and I

knew that this wasn’t a one time trick,

that I could capture any memory I wanted

And pull it out of my brain’s filing cabinet at will

That is one of my favorite memories,

but there are so many more

The moment I first laid eyes on my love

knowing he was the one and ever doubting

That I had ever chosen wrong.

Realizing that I didn’t have to finish university

is one of my favorite memories.

Knowing that what I was learning was trite

And foolish and I was never meant to be

A doctor or a lawyer. They tell all the smart kids that’s

What they should be

Highs or lows, ups and downs

Life’s endless symphony playing constantly

How to choose a moment in a song

a single note that is my favorite

Or even a single key

Journeying far and wide

Sometimes in wealth, sometimes in poverty

It was the journey that was important

The learning. Other ways, other people,

I plunged myself into the symphony

And like that first feather,

I remembered it all, putting it away

To take out and look at when

I have my doubts or sorrow strikes me hard

My favorite memory is being able to have memory

Even the wounds put on me are mine

To learn from and to take away from them

What I will. I cannot question if I’m singing right

Not in this masterpiece of song

My favorite memory is this symphony of life

and plucking feathers from the air