a small part.

Do half-formed memories come back to you at strange times?

I was addressing a stack of envelopes today at work, in that comfortable dozy state that comes when you’re doing something simple and repetitive, and suddenly I was transported to a stretch of road north of where my parents live and where I lived for four years in high school. It’s a rolling stretch with fields on one side and a sub-division of new houses on the other. I rarely went into the side streets off that road, but it was the shortcut to the highway that I’d take back and forth to college, so I’d drive it then. And I remember one time stopping at a garage sale at a house on that street with my mom. I think I bought something, but I don't remember what.

At any rate, its strange to be instantly transported to a place that played a small part in my life. Suddenly I remember all these details, or maybe I create them, but either way the landscape seems so rich.

I really have nothing better to say today. It was a little warm and damp out, work was quiet and busy, and I’ve just washed a pile of spinach to throw into a frittata when J gets home from work. I’m listening to the All Songs Considered Holiday Special and wondering whether I have the stamina to read an entire book tonight, because I want to.

It’s Christmas Eve Eve, but it doesn’t feel much like Christmas. It feels more like an extra weekend snuck into the middle of this week. We have a small stack of package-presents waiting to be opened this week and plans to decorate a few gingerbread men. But Christmas will come and go quietly, which I think is OK. Sometimes I sink a bit too much energy into making events or anniversaries or occasions special - when really, the mundane and everyday life means just as much. And who knows what small places and memories will stick with me for years to come?