I opened my front door the other day. It was raining. Each drip looked as if it stung the cement landing quickly and bouncing sharply upward breaking into pieces. I stood there for awhile watching. I listened and I smelled. There was absolutely nothing unordinary or special, to make this memory stick. The air didn’t move much, and it was not hot or cold. No cars drove past, no kids, nobody. A couple thunders rolled by, but nothing terribly impressive. I was eventually enticed back to the raindrops dancing. Little bolts of lightening zinging and demanding my attention. After some time had passed I closed the door, and went on with the day. Later, as I lay in bed, I tossed and turned and woke up before the sun. Maybe memories are made of more than just “memorable moments”. Maybe the best memories are moments filled with nothing at all.
Doree 1 Minute
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