I have this feeling.
Stronger then a theory, a determination, an absolute realization that to me at least, this is true. Life gives us a reset button to keep inside our hearts, at the oddest times. Not always when things are calm, and peaceful… sometimes it gives it to you when you least expect it.
When you don’t know that you need it, and even when you are not looking for it. It’s a system restore point, just like your computer makes before it starts downloading a update. A safe spot, a chance to breath, to catch your breath, and a time to go back to if things are not right. A moment when everything stops, and instead of hitting fast forward, something in you hits record. You’re creating a moment, a memory, a point in your life. A time where although it’s not perfect, it’s wonderful. And you might find yourself going back to that point many times when you are stressed, or upset. It’s there for a reason, it’s your “happy” place, it’s a moment of peace in your life, it’s a life line, a rock, a island.
It’s a small space of time, however brief that allows you to mentally reset, and move forward stronger.
Refreshed, and ready to face whatever life throws at you. Pay attention to those moments, they are not going to stand up and cheer at you, waving arms, and yelling hoorays, they might be more subtle then you think. Keep your eyes open, your heart free, and if you watch out something might dart from the corner of your eye, or you might feel a flutter in your heart. It might be while you relax and take a deep breath. It might be during a creative spell, listening to music, or hearing the voice of a good friend when you pick up the phone. A feeling, knowledge that life doesn’t have to be perfect, in order to be wonderful.
That’s your system restore moment. And when you need a place to retreat to, a moment to reflect, your mind will go there.
That photo of the blue bucket up there… it’s one of my system restore moments. It was early in the morning, I was stiff, unbending, but I had to capture that light streaming through the blue, even if it meant going all the way back upstairs, grabbing the camera, changing the lens, and digging out a fresh memory card, and forcing myself to bend sideways in my housecoat, hoping the neighbour wasn’t yet up, [he wasn’t].
It was needed, and I am glad that I did it. In the middle of a dark and cold winter this shot is going to warm my heart. The sun sparkling, the knowledge that it was only going to be there for a few minutes, and then gone again for a year, it’s a moment, and it was mine.
Not every system restore moment is a camera shot.
In our journey with my Dad, there has been so much heartbreak, sadness, despair at times. It hurts, and it will continue to hurt, I know that. But it’s awful to see him slip away from us, forgetting names, things, losing so many words. It’s part of the dementia disease to go through this… and it hurts.
Sometimes you will not know the value of a moment, until it becomes a memory.
We are hanging onto what ever we can with him, moments, conversations, feelings, hoarding them, keeping them close to our hearts.
But still he continues to slip further away.
One tactile memory I am keeping in my heart is also a system restore moment for me, I find myself going back and remembering the sensation… my Dad steady enough with his walker that I can carefully link my arm through his… walking along besides him, my hand laying on his forearm, no longer the strongest forearm I had ever seen… the skin now transparent, thinner, fragile, but still my Dad.
A system restore point can be anything, cold ice cream on a hot day… giggling as you lick up the melting sweetness. A summer snapshot of the golden sun retiring for the day slipping through the tall grass, golden caresses on the weeds.
The way the light creates shadows on a wall, over a leaf, sun streaming through petals.
The purr of a cat, the wet nuzzle of a dog.
The chubby curve of a toddlers cheek.
Frogs croaking outside your wide open window, fresh late summer air streaming in.
The twirl of a skirt against your legs.
Water color paints in a box, a fresh page in a journal and you having so many ideas to contribute to it.
A dew covered flower bud ready to burst.
Blink, memorize it, feel it fully embed in your memory.
It’s a moment and it’s yours.
It’s a system restore point.
Have you felt those moments that become memories while they happen, or do you realize later that’s what they are? Does your brain go through your memories at night, sorting, distributing, pondering…
Share.
