Monday, August 10, 2009

"All stories, even the ones we love, must eventually come to an end and when they do, it's only an opportunity for another story to begin."

Despite M’s 8 hour ordeal on Friday night and the wee hours of Saturday morning, we’re still having garage door troubles. Which is why I was up at 5:30 this morning to help him out of the garage and move my car out at the same time. I was surprised to find that weather was cool, a slight breeze was even blowing, but it was too freakin’ early so I decided to seize my bed (instead of the day). Except. . . I couldn’t fall back to sleep. I rested, but didn’t sleep.

Sometimes, in such awkward, mental twilight situations, my mind wonders to some strange places. As I lay there resting but not sleeping, I remembered my earlier dream of having a romantic relationship with Hyde from That 70’s Show and thought how very random a dream that really was and how I must be very tired. . . .

Somewhere in that twilight, I also thought about White Top Drive In in Lemoore, CA. Lemoore was one of my mission areas from June/July to October 1998. We walked or drove past White Top nearly every day. It was on D Street and 19th Avenue, right down the street from our apartment. White Top was THE place to be for burgers and fries or chicken strips and fries or rootbeer floats or a wide variety of milkshake flavors.

The thing about missions is that so many memories are packed into such a short amount of time that they sometimes spill over into early morning twilights 11 years later. And so it was this morning as I remembered White Top.

As is typical with twilight-ish thoughts, no particular memory surfaced about White Top. Just a misty image hidden somewhere at that back of some cerebral cortex or other, floating to the surface of a sleepy mind. But as it happens with such things – which are akin to standing on the bank of a river and watching some unexpected, arbitrary object float by, watching it bob and duck there on the surface with no apparent rhyme or reason and then having the abrupt epiphany of “oh! I remember that now” . . . then looking upstream only to see a surge of memories heading your way – my mind was suddenly flooded with all sorts of memories of Lemoore and my time there. They keep popping up today, those minute snippets of a place and time that is now lost to me save the record kept in my heart, mind, and journals.

In a way that I have found wholly unique to mission memories, this sort of phenomenon happens to me occasionally. I’ll be going about my regularly scheduled program and suddenly an image or memory from my mission will drift up to the surface, trailing other images and memories along behind it like some jettisoned, precious cargo, lashed together by time and circumstance and intensity of experience. Inevitably, when this happens, I try to remember when it was that I was living that memory, when it was that I was in that place and inevitably, I have found, that it usually was the very month or season in which my current life is taking place, as if an invisible anchor has tethered my conscience and spirit through time and space to where I was then.

[Title quote is from "Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium"]


Miranda said...

I often find myself doing the same thing- that is having very random memories come back to me at the strangest times. Anyway- on a completely unrelated topic, I just read your last post on the other blog and wanted to say don't worry. I was HUGE and my belly button never popped out- and I think yours is even deeper than mine. :-)

Michelle said...

I always enjoy reading your blogs. Hope you are doing great, baby and all!! :)

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