1333 pinebrook lane
(the anatomy of a good memory)


what makes or romanticizes an event or sequence of events into the kind of thought that eventually becomes a good memory? is it time? is it the immediate impact of said event on one's life? the eventual impact? is it all of the above?

for some reason, my old house in huffman on pinebrook lane has found it's way into my dreams (day and night) of late. more specifically, the memory of a particular day years ago that makes me happy to think about even now. the day in my head was a beautiful day, much like today. it was a little hot, but not too hot. and it was a day filled with things that were very much stereotypical "boy".

i woke up and went outside to ride my bike. and i rode it everywhere. up and down the street. around the neighborhood just above our street. everywhere. and then i fell. hard. pinebrook lane had/has hills that any young boy riding a bike would die for and most of the time i would go down them with no hands. well, i was going down no-handed and hit a rock or hole that threw me off balance. i was able to grab the handlebars before i went straight down but i only was able to steer myself into the curb where i proceeded to flip over into the yard three houses down from my own. i remember my wind being knocked out of me and laying flat on my back fearful of what i might have broken. after realizing that i was relatively ok, i sat up, my thoughts turning to who might have seen my calamity. not one person. at least no one was outside in their yard to see me.

i breathed a sigh of relief and walked over to my bike, now laying across the curb with no hint of ever having suffered a crash. i was still a little too shocked to hop on and ride home, so i walked toward my house with visions of otterpops dancing in my head. no sooner do i begin walking past my neighbor's house does my neighbor and his younger brother come out the front door.

"you up for football?"

uh, yeah.

i go grab my step-brother, and we collect as many of the kids on our street as we can just like we do every saturday (so, i am guessing my memory is on a saturday), and we play for what seems like hours. with half-time and everything. i don't remember who won or lost (which probably means i lost), but i remember it being so much fun.

i don't know what sort of impact this day had on me. i don't really know if everything in my memory even happened in one day. considering i can't even remember one day from my fourth grade year, i don't trust my memory most of the time. i do know that my day becomes that much sweeter every time i think about it, so i do think time plays a role. in the same way that my sports accomplishments, life accomplishments, job accomplishments, etc. seem more impressive (to me) the further i remove myself from them, i suppose this memory works in the same vein.

whatever the reason behind this thought/memory/dream is, i won't complain, and i am really not looking for outside opinion or insight. just thinking out loud. or typing rather.