We shared lunch today since sharing lunch is better than just eating it. Eating and sharing go together like bread and butter, but if I had to choose, I would choose sharing. Today we did both. We shared more at lunch than we could have imagined.
I simmered all morning as Nurit sequenced the ingredients of her vegetable beef soup into the pot. No ingredient was more important than the other, but timing was everything. Preference and priority are not the same, are they?
She finally gave me the thumbs up to eat, thank, think, and remember with her. We shared memories today at lunch – specifically our earliest ones.
Nurit’s Earliest Memory
She was about six years old when her teacher at the school on the other side of the river loaned her a book. Nurit said she took it home, but mice took a liking to the book and took to biting it. They nibbled the book before she could rescue it and return it to her teacher.
Her teacher scolded her, and asked “How could you let this happen?”
I asked Nurit if she ever brought a borrowed book home again. She said she didn’t. Who would?
My Earliest Memory
I’m in my mother, either in her arms or in her womb. She carries me firmly but gently. She steps across the gaps between the boulders where the sand washes away to expose the cold, churning waters of the ocean below.
I believe it was here, or here 44° 01’ 01″ N 124° 08’ 44″ W, but how can I be sure? It was before I measured time or knew distance. The aromas of wet pines, damp wool, and her scent mixed to the sound of crashing waves and battered logs.
So, what if I’m wrong? She’s no longer there, nor am I. But I can remember, can’t I?
How Could We Forget?
Today’s vegetable beef soup brought back memories! I wonder what memories chicken noodle soup might bring back to the front of my mind?
Life is like soup. Sometimes we prepare it, other times we buy it, but most times we just get put into the pot with all the ingredients and steam, stew, and savor as we learn to share in spite of our preferences and priorities.
When we finished talking about our memories, we kept sharing. We wondered about the memories of others, especially the ones who are no longer here. Where are they and their memories now?
I claim to remember feeding from my mother’s breast. I believe I remember being in her arms and even in her womb. Really? Yes, really.
How many memories have been erased before they existed? When do they begin and when do they end? Will an aborted fetus remember being torn apart, extracted, and discarded? Do they take their memories with them? Do they take all their memories, or just the good ones?
I have questions, but I’m sleepy again. I wonder if Nurit’s vegetable beef soup made me sleepy? Where will He take my thoughts as my body takes a nap? What will He show me?
I can’t wait to see what’s next, but how could I forget what’s been? Why can’t I just settle in and be content between stops?