Been sleeping with the windows open and last night the crickets sang the most beautiful soft choral. The train whistle’s lonely echoes answered each other, the steel wheels of the trains kept time with the music, their clicks and clacks pounding a beat, as the train traveled through the darkness. A lonely mocking bird sang a beautiful love song and then was quiet. I love fall nights with the windows opened, falling asleep to the earth’s lullabies.

Ate breakfast on the porch under a beautiful azure blue sky, cloudless and sunny. Father Sky left the moon uncovered for me to get a glance before he put the moon to bed. The pale white moon was so pretty contrasted against the dark blue sky. First time in years I’ve seen the moon in daylight.

Been sitting in the swing for several hours, lazily watching the clouds change shape. They started out as puffs, only four little clouds, and morphed into birds and dinosaurs as they slowly floated by. When I first saw the little round nubby clouds I thought they looked like breaths from Puff the Magic Dragon. Now I’m watching the birds and butterflies. The yellow butterflies have been dancing their circle ballet in the bright sunshine. My faithful cardinals, titmice, and purple finches are happily visiting the feeders enjoying the sunflower seeds.

Got an electrician and plumber doing a few repairs this afternoon. Got a leak in my kitchen sink pipe and a clog, too, that’s has been so irritating. Just a drop of water turned into a river when I last used the dishwasher! Took a whole dryer full of towels to mop up the kitchen floor! I just know they’re going to find a critter when they use the auger to clean the drain. Pray for me. Probably a Florida python in there! Maybe that’s where Grandpaw Raccoon has been hiding.

I walked down the street at dusk to see the sunset. Can’t see it from the porch swing, now. I missed Miss Sun laying her head down, dressed in her blaze of glory, but did catch a glimpse of the horizon painted the colors of a mango. My brother-in-law loved mangoes and he always had some in a fruit bowl. When mangoes ripen they go through several colors — yellow, orange, red, and purple — sometimes the colors are layered on the fruit like the watercolors of a glorious sunset. I thought of Uncie, as my children called him, when I looked at the mango colored horizon.

Memories are such a gift. It’s interesting to think we see something or smell something and we’re instantly transferred back in our memories. I never see a beautiful expensive purse that I don’t think of my daughter. She loved shoes and purses. Even as a toddler she’d put on my high heels, clip on some big earrings, sling a large purse on her arm, and priss around the house, usually just dressed in her ruffled cotton bloomers. I treasure a picture of her dressed like this but it’s glued to the glass in the frame and hard to reproduce. She’d probably lightning bolt me from heaven if I put a copy of the photo here.

So many things trigger memories of my husband — old cameras, small pocket size notebooks, lead pencils, the rows of garden plants at Awbrey’s, any interesting old book or encyclopedia, a scarlet cardinal, a gray Dodge ram with the ram on the hood (saw one today), manual typewriters, presidential china. He loved china and crystal and so do I and we had many happy fancy dinners here in Roanoke on the weekends.

Memories are powerful and serve as the past’s guide to our future. Memories are to be cherished! Some of them bring bright happy smiles to our face, comfort us when we’re grieving, some bring a few tears. But how sad it would be not to be able to recall the happy and the sad times throughout our lifetime. Memories influence how we look at the world around us. During our lifetime we gather different types of memories from everyday experiences and happenings. Through our memories we learn lessons from the past and how to solve problems in the future. Memories strengthen our sense of identity and purpose and bond our relationships.

Our memories, both happy and sad, are who we are.

“Memories are a vast precipice of beauty that carries our hearts through tomorrow,” — Unknown