It’s that time of year when memories seem to be the focus, especially for me. I made some yesterday. It started with a short walk with an old friend and a new friend. Saw a nutria and a Coopers Hawk as we walked. Then I went to watch the young grandson display his karate skills. He took home some medals, a trophy, and a new belt. This was followed with me monitoring the granddaughter as she baked some chocolate chip cookies while her parents went shopping. Finally, in the evening we sat around a fire and roasted marshmallows.

Of course, memories tend to be individualistic. There’s no telling how the participants in yesterday’s memories felt about the events. One can only hope they had good memories as well, but the granddaughter may have wanted me to participate more, the grandson had his dad there, and so it goes. I know the daughter and son-in-law were grateful for the time alone, but maybe they wanted more. You never know. You just keep doing and making memories in the hopes that some of them will be treasured.

But in the end, how the participants feel about something you remember is really irrelevant. Memories are personal. It’s the catalog of the things you enjoy or enjoyed. Time with your parents, your brothers, a first kiss, a first date, a first dance, a good book, a great meal, a vista that took your breath away, a drive across France, the list goes on. Although, having said that memories are personal, it is nice when someone you love, smiles, gives you a hug, and says, “Remember, when…?”