Three years ago . . .
My site is called Write Where I Want to be for a reason. As a writer I can take day trips to foreign lands, visit exotic locals and never leave my seat. Okay so I would love to actually go to some of the places I write about, but I guess I have to live vicariously through my character and she in turns gets to live because of my imagination.
It's a win win situation
Today I planned to take a time jump (because I'm working on a sci-fi novel) to the past, three years to the past.
I figure since I know the time and the place, having lived through it three years prior, I shouldn't have to do much research.
I have come to the realization that I my memory is weak. I can't barely recountn yesterday, let alone three years ago.
Oh sure I remember I was three years younger, I only had two grand children, I 'd only been married 26 years and so on.
The little details of everyday life escape me. What did I do in 2006 that set that year apart from the others. Was it merely filled with the same banal moments that write my moments today?
This is why people journal. So they can travel back via their words and remember. I journal off and on, then go back and read myself and wonder what was I thinking. Then try to be a good girl and not edit my writing, because I'm not her anymore.
Oh pieces of the me from three years before remain, and I still look the same, except hopefully, living through those three years has left me a bit older and perhaps wiser. Or was that wider???
So here I am in 2009, trying to remember me in 2006. Was that a good year?
I lived through it, but there were no major defining moments, no gotcha memories that clairified my existence from that year to the next.
And maybe, just maybe that's a good thing, 2006 is gone, 2009 is almost over and the future is waiting beyond, I'll just have to take a step toward it and know that even if I forget most of the moments that made my years, I still had the blessing of walking through them. And maybe, I'll stop and savor the moments I have now before they are lost in the volumes that are my past.