Yesterday. The day started with coffee… always with coffee. This is a yesterday list. A short walk with our dog, an hour of pulling weeds and transplanting other plants (a small volunteer effort with friends) 2.5 hours of Pickleball along with many others in America now a days, a dash into COSTCO, a short trip to my daughters (12 miles away from our home) then a lighthearted impromptu walk with her while she walked her four year old dog. When I came home, I was ready to relax. I grilled some mushrooms (one of the things I like to eat, made a cocktail (prosecco with a splash of orange and a splash of cranberry juice) then decided to float on a swimming pool raft in our what I call Covid swimming pool. I had no idea that floating just floating could bring up. The reason I write about the day is because sometimes I wonder if what happens in our day, little things we might see or hear leads to the past coming up when we are silent and perhaps floating.

I have a birthday coming up for one thing. The 69th year of my birth. Floating…floating on my back on a raft in a swimming pool. My mind rested from the day. Then unexpectedly, my mind went to my 13 (1968) year old birthday party held by my in my parent’s in our backyard. It was memorial weekend I have a picture in my mind of faces, all of whom are young like me although I am not there. Just friends.

Four of them came to the forefront. Sadly, these are the four who are no longer with us. One is my friend Kathryn who had beautiful blonde hair with soft curls, died while crossing a street on a bicycle and was hit by a car. Her brother Robert’s life was taken with hers in the same way on the same day at the same time. My friend Elizabeth who had the best straight bangs, and Tommy whose house I walked passed to get to my piano teacher’s house, passed away as adults from cancer. Jean Marie who was tall and had the most beautiful smile, passed as an adult from COPD. I will be 69 and yet the memory of my party all gathered in the small backyard waiting for my sister’s neighborhood band (The Uncalled Four) to start to play is as vivid in my mind as if I was there now.

The only gift I recall receiving was a pair of earrings from my friend Kathryn. The thing about good memories is with the sorrow comes the warm memory of being together and laughing. A particular conversation isn’t recalled, but the laughter and togetherness is strong. In those years, I feel I was very fortunate to have such friends who laughed a lot, saw each other on the playground daily at school and couldn’t wait to see each other the next day. The weekends held slumber parties with a minimum of 8 girls and consisted of talking until we dozed off one by one, Ouija board antics, and listening to music, usually Soul music.

These good memories I have are what I keep and make me smile. Save the good memories and pull them out when you float.

Nurturing Nonni