Im trying to remember.........

In the brain a cloud of thought moves across the sky of the mind, electrochemical and biological components react like lightning and thunder in the neurosphere, a gentle rain of thought falls upon the hills and valleys of the soft gray matter, memories open their blossoms,and I remember....

 In my mind I see him, walking toward me in at a rapid clip,it is his intensity that catches my attention. He is walking fast and his arms are bent at the elbows like a runner, pumping like the pistons of a locomotive propelling him forward. Who is this and what is he up to? A weathered ball cap is pulled down tight on his head, a long untrimmed beard covers his face,his gray jogging pants are frumpy and lived in like his yellowed t-shirt. The canvas high top tennis shoes are dusty and worn from heavy use.We come closer and then pass each other and he doesn't look my way, his eyes keep looking straight ahead to his destination. In the rear view mirror I watch and he never turns to look , he continues down the asphalt road.

In town I ask about him and someone says,"oh that's Tommy something or other, we just call him Walker, cause that's all he does from sunup to sundown, is walk from one end of the city limits to the other and back." Walker? Only celebrities are known by a one name moniker and he doesn't seem like a celebrity to me. He seems instead like an eccentric who will soon burn himself out. Over the course of four more years I have to change my mind about Walker's commitment and dedication to his purpose, he doesn't let up or vary.In time  it is us the observers who change ,we still smile when we see him, only not in amusement but a sort of admiration. Admiration at his steadfast determination to day after day continue his journey. He has earned his celebrity the hard way,day by day,mile by mile. This memory is hard burned into my brain and I call upon it now, 30 years later.

An average  forty year old person has about 233,600 waking hours of life experience, how much of that time is recorded in memory? Is it all ? Is it all there stored at different levels of access? Some memories are so paramount that they remain like landmarks on the mindscape. Where were you when Armstrong walked on the moon, what you were doing. Do you remember the first time you saw a mountain? Have you seen the Grand Canyon, it is unforgettable. Do you remember your first kiss, or your first love, your first best friend, who and what was your first pet? The fission and heat of your first sexual encounter and the resulting nuclear explosion in your being?Landmarks, historical markers of the life that is you.

What a marvel that Dad who has been gone for 15 years now can still be found in my mind, I can see his face, his smile, his eyes, see his rough carpenter hands, hear his voice, it,s tenor and tone, yes his voice distinct, him. I find I can do this with anyone I have known at will, try it now yourself and see. Some are gone, some are not, but all remain in the flower garden of our memory. Mercifully, the horrible pain of loss of that one departed has eased ,the gales of grief have quieted, and calm covers the memory of them, a smile replaces the tear. Each memory is a living flower and is gently touched by my hand ,adored by my heart,sometimes watered by my tears. I must return here to this garden of memory more often for the flowers seem to lift their heads when I come and their fragrance follows with me when I go. You friend, are so fortunate to have your memories.

Back to my memory of Walker........

One day I noticed I hadn't seen Walker in a while and was worried , so I asked about him around town. It seems Walker stopped at the package store for a bottle of water and while he was there he noticed some colorful new cards on the counter. For a rare moment he spoke and said,"what are those?" The clerk told him they were lotto cards and they were a dollar each, Walker had just a dollar. Sometimes the smallest things of life have such enormous effect, Tommy Hayward, a fellow once known only as "Walker" ended that particular journey he was on that day, the odd celebrity, became a legend in our town because of a winning lotto ticket. He won a prize of the twelve hundred dollars a week from the Texas Lotto Board for the rest of his life. Tommy marches to his on drummer and even though he didnt need the money he went to work for a while at McDonalds and then he disappeared. I never saw him again. I don't know if he still walks somewhere, he walks my city no more, but he still walks the paths of my memory. 

A wind gently blows across the mindscape carrying rustling leaves of experience newly fallen. Some like dandelions ride the wind bearing their seed to fertile ground where finding foothold  they will survive and become a flower of  memory.