As I approach my 97th birthday, I live face-to-face with aging issues, so I write about my reality and what I experience in these moments.
I have come to maintain that our good memories are where the aging spend their time. Lenette and I do this when we are with our wonderful visitors. We talk about what we each remember, and those memories bring laughter and occasionally a few tears.
Reminiscing about what happened so many years ago is amazingly easy because most of our memories were full of “learning experiences.” We grew from those, becoming more able as a contributor rather than a taker. So often, the entire point was about contributing.
So, our good memories, when shared with those who were there with us, really count as we age. They are like those special pictures we hang on our walls. Yet, they are so much more than that. They bring smiles, tears, and stories to tell.
Where we lack photographs, our memories do the job. Mürren, Switzerland, is an example of our special memories. Lenette and I were told of Mürren by a dear friend. We came upon it in the dark on a rainy night after a Cog-rail ride up a steep mountain.
Cold and wet, we searched for anything that might offer us a bed and food. It was pitch black outside, and we headed for the only light on the small village street. It was an Inn where we spent the night. The following day, we were treated to an amazing surprise when the sun came up.
We pulled aside the drapes and looked out our window straight down 5,000 feet to a valley below us and the Swiss Alps right before us. Had we found heaven? No, it was Mürren. We have no photos, only our precious memories.
Sy