I’m going to share a weird little experience I had.
One morning in my early seventies I got into the shower. As I stood there letting the warm water come down onto my head and roll down over my shoulders, a memory abruptly popped into my mind. Its image was crystal clear. Before that moment, I had no memory of it. Once it was there, however, I recalled every detail.
It was my birthday party. I had just turned five. One of the presents I received was a plastic toy gun that shot little plastic darts that had rubber suction cups on the tip.
For fun I shot one of the suction cups at this cute little blond girl. It bounced off her dress and dropped to the ground. She laughed. I laughed. Kids around us laughed. I stepped in a bit closer and shot it again toward her forehead. It too dropped to the ground without sticking. This time, instead of laughing, she started crying. I saw a little round circle on her forehead. I was scolded and the little girl wanted to go home.
I had lost all memory of that experience until that moment in the shower. I let out a yell. How stupid of me to do that. Even, how cruel. Then I groaned. Six and a half decades later I remember this for the first time? Painful.
I wish I could say this was the only time this kind of experience happened. For example, I remembered not being able to help my oldest daughter with her algebra when she asked. That was when she was in seventh grade. She’s now fifty years old.
I’ve enjoyed my seventies except for these kinds of memories occasionally punching through.
Is there some truth or lesson lurking around here?
The only one I can come up with is, I’m catching up with myself.