March 21

The Dance of Memories

He sat by the window with his coffee in his hands, one aged hand around the other, watching the snow. The contented sigh of the dog curled up at his feet could have been his own. His life hadn’t turned out as he expected, but it had been good, nonetheless. He knew he was nearing the end. Genetics hold the key to just how close death is, but at his age, he knew he didn’t have too many winters left, yet he didn’t let the mystery affect his sleep. If he were a younger man he would have been out in the snow just for the fun of it. There was a day when he enjoyed the silence of a snowstorm, the dampened sounds, and the soft whisper of snow on snow. Today he was just as pleased to experience it from the warmth of the den.

He tried to pick out certain flakes and follow their path to the ground where they blended into the soft curves of the garden. His old eyes could see them against the backdrop of the trees until they fell so low that they disappeared into the whiteness of the ground – each one unique, yet part of the whole. He remembered his childhood game of catching them on the end of his tongue. The really big flakes of the wet snows would land like a cold pinprick and instantly melt. In fact he remembered many things, some better than he wanted. As old age gradually took away memories, he wished he could have chosen which ones to keep and which ones to let go. But like the snowflakes, they fell on top of one another and became inseparable. Together they made up his life, and the soft curves of his memory drifted back and forth, uncovering some and obscuring others.

Some of the memories sparkled and danced and still brought him great joy. His beautiful bride, the birth of his son, and then his daughter, and the grandchildren. Every truly wonderful memory involved one of them. He was pleased with the work he had done, particularly in the second half of his life. It took him 20 years of working too hard to realize he wasn’t doing the work he was supposed to do. Those years had some memories in them that came back to him, each like a pinprick. He wasn’t always proud of the relationship he had with his children. He didn’t appreciate being a husband and father until much too late in the game, but at least he figured it out in time to really give and receive love. Love. It brought both joy and pain. He never thought they would be apart this long. She’d been gone longer than the number of years he’d had before he married her. He couldn’t wait to see her again.

The dance of memories falling through his mind were the accumulation of a lifetime of moments – a good lifetime overall. When he was a young man he thought his good fortune came because God rewarded him for being so wonderful. When he was older and he’d experienced some setbacks, he realized that was vanity. God was still good, and he still thanked God every day, but God loves regardless of merit. Would he do things differently? Probably. But he was content. As he raised the coffee cup to his lips, he picked out another snowflake and watched it fall.

The Rev. Tom Purdy