July 20, 1969

I’ll never forget that summer. After a whirlwind romance, my boyfriend had asked me to marry him and we were busy planning our October wedding. And of course, we spent every moment together. Otherwise I might missed it altogether. He was in the Air National Guard and was fascinated with anything to do with flying and/or space travel. So when he found out they were going to broadcast the landing on the moon on television, we had to watch.

So there we were, sitting in my parents family room, watching their black and white twenty-something inch television that didn’t get very good reception. To be honest, the whole space thing didn’t mean that much to me. But I knew it did to him. And, I was just happy that we were spending time together. So we watched.

On 10:56 p.m. ET on July 20, 1969, the American astronaut Neil Armstrong stepped off that ladder and planted his left foot on the moon. Then, he said, “That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.”

Suddenly, I understood. Mankind had taken a giant step toward the future. We’d gone where no man had gone before. And I cried.

~The Pyrex Bowls~

I have a lot of keepsakes. Most of them aren’t antiques or collector’s items, but they’re special to me. Why? Because they come with memories attached. And what is more precious than a memory? These Pyrex bowls belonged to my mother. They may have been a wedding present. She used the largest one when she made potato salad. Every time I use one of them, I think about her.  

Yesterday

This is something I wrote a long time ago. One of the first things I ever submitted to a contest. Needless to say, it’s gone through some editing since I won first place with it. A writer never stops tweaking!

These days, I just sit out on the front porch in a daze.  My family doesn’t know what to do with me. To them, I’m an old woman living in the past. They don’t know I can time travel. Snicker all you want, but it’s true.     

Anything can trigger it. A gentle breeze lifting the hair on my arms, the sound of someone’s voice, smells like honeysuckle or roses, children’s laughter. The memories come, faded at first like old black and white photographs of days gone by. And if I concentrate on them long enough, I’m young again, full of hopes and dreams and promises.

It’s a trip. Sparks of emotion exploding into fireworks. An aching lump in my throat. Joy mixed with regret. Bittersweet. Too much to bear sometimes, but I can’t stop myself. 

When I was young, I charged ahead at breakneck speed without savoring precious moments or taking the time to breathe. Learned my lesson far too late. Now I take my time. Close my eyes and watch everything unfold again. 

This is where I want to be from now on…