snap shot


    How I remember it is not how it happened,
    I’m sure. Every time I go back to a memory
    the light in the room is a bit different,
    or people have changed clothes.
    Most of us can’t remember our lines.
    We’re like a junior high drama class
    trying to fake our way through the scene
    so we can go to lunch.

    Memories are not photographs.
    I can recall standing under the lightpost
    wrapped in Christmas garland
    (the lightpost, that is),
    you in your big purple coat
    and I with long dark hair –
    even on top. It was a long time ago,
    but I can still see the flash.

    Yet, once my memory begins
    to animate the scene, and we are
    walking and talking on the streets
    of Charlestown in the Christmas cold,
    all the years of open invitations
    I have seen in your eyes,
    all the tears and conversations
    and laughter add texture and tone.

    We’re standing on both sides of my eyes,
    but not as mirror image or still life
    (life has never been still for us).
    We stood there in the cold for that moment,
    long enough for the camera to catch
    and then release us to all the other
    afternoons where we walked hand in hand,
    even when no one had a camera.



    1. Yeah. yes. One way to think of it is to say, “Oh no, our memories are faulty. We need cameras to record EVERYTHING. Everything we do.”

      Another way is to remember that even with cameras, you don’t get the truth. Ask Zapruder.

      The gospel too, right? Matthew’s memory, Mark’s Luke’s and John’s. And no matter how panicked the people get and shout about verbal inspiration, anyone who reads them knows…sees the biases.

      I guess we better be okay with this because it’s all God has given us, right?

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