Masks

Sometimes I wonder if what I remember is really what I remember... or if someone has talked me into it.

I don't have the memories of my childhood in the great detail as some of my siblings and friends do. And it doesn't bother me. I like to think that as I've grown, I can let little details go. Who cares who said what in 1980? How does that have any bearing on what I'm doing this very minute? The past is past. I guess I let it go? Maybe I'm blocking? Why do I need to remember?

That's not to say I don't enjoy hearing stories about my family ancestors... although maybe that is all altered memory too. It’s cool looking at pictures and seeing the "grands" and "greats" and “aunts” and “uncles”  when they were young, and knowing from whence I came.  It's the gossipy little details that aren't important. 

The past is past. It's not now. Now is now. There is nothing else in life but THIS exact moment.

Let go of the rest and go on...