I was recently having a conversation with an elderly gentleman who was emotionally very frustrated because he was conscious of his inability to remember some very important life events. He was very sad, wiping away tears with his shaky wrinkled hand, so I sat with him awhile and listened to the stories he could remember eventually watching the tears of sadness turn to tears of joy, sharing a few hearty belly laughs before the end. You see he was an adventurer and I could relate to many of his stories and shared some of my more memorable ones with him. When we were done we parted with a hand squeeze and a brief shared look that we knew acknowledged the suffering but also the joys of our moment of shared time together.
After our conversation the thoughts swirled and swirled in my head resulting in a bit of a tornado. You see dementia, Alzheimer’s, they all run in my family and I just kept coming up with the thought “was I just having a conversation with myself in the future?”
Sometimes in the dark recesses of my mind when I forget someone’s name or the exact details of an event this little evil thread runs through “is this the beginning?” It can be a bit daunting carrying this weight around somedays. I try not to ruminate on it because what will be, will be. Maybe it’s why I’m drawn to words, stories, the truer the better. I feel a deep need to get it all down. Have it somewhere my boys and possibly their children can come to and read. See the photographs, read the stories of their adventurous family roots.
I can’t get enough of hearing about people’s adventures in this big wide crazy world. We all might not be climbing mountain tops or exploring exotic rainforest everyday but if you’re willing to step out the door with bit of saved up money and two feet and a heart beat, take some risks, rise to the challenges I’ll be waiting at the end to hear your story beer in hand.
Who knows how long we each have to live our adventures, to remember our stories, to share them with others, so get out there make stories together even those terrible scary moments you may look back and laugh about one day.
The first time my husband and I traveled together to Mexico we were backpacking around the Baja for a week. I had booked the first night hotel as we were landing late at night then it was moment to moment. We didn’t have a lot of money we were both in college and we had booked our airfare on travel vouchers we had been given after a trip to see his family in Chile when our flight home was overbooked. We spent the first night at a cheap small hotel in Cabo San Lucas and the next morning set off on the bus to San Jose del Cabo. As we disembarked the bus at the beach my husband informed me he had left all our money tucked under the mattress at the last hotel then he went and phoned the hotel and asked the receptionist to look to see if the money was still there. It was absurd. We bussed all the way back holding our breath and finding hope in the smile of that Mexican receptionist envelope of cash in hand. We walked to the first bar we saw and laughed over cold beers breathing a sigh of relief we’d have a roof over our heads that night. We just weren’t really sure where!