What Becomes of Our Memories.

What Becomes of Our Memories

John Paul Derryberry

The sun descended perfectly between two Badlands plateaus. The wind from the west picked up ever so slightly, sending the first minor chill through my weary legs. My heartbeat was still elevated from the long hike to the middle of nowhere, and the excitement of seeing a wild buffalo was still buzzing in my head. We settled in for the night in our make-shift tent. My buddy and I, to carry less weight, had created a two-tarp small shanty of a tent, open to the elements by our heads. The only thing I could think about while I enjoyed my peanut butter chip granola bar dinner was that this sunset would stay with me the rest of my life.

Specific memories stay with us forever. Much like the 'beware of rattlesnakes' sign at the beginning of the Badlands hike. Other life moments flutter away, like those of the countless basketball games I have played in my life. Memories are odd like that; what seems super essential at the moment can barely be recalled years later. Yet our memories tell us the story, at least, they tell the main story we tell ourselves. Whether they are factual or not, it's how we view our present self-- through the actions, we have stored away through the years.

We store away happy moments, profound moments, and moments of overcoming even the slightest adversity. We file away our sad moments, confusing moments, or moments of failure. We are a combination of the frequency at which we decided to place a moment in a special place to recall repeatedly. It's the recall part that's tricky. Do we hardwire our thought process to remember heartache, tragedy, failure at our most challenging moments? Because remembering the day I almost killed myself when the chips were down does not inspire confidence that I can succeed. But recalling the day I looked at the 'beware of rattlesnakes' sign and still hiked to the most glorious sunset these eyes have never witnessed, loads my body with all sorts of confidence.

It's not just big profound moments that stay with us forever; sometimes, it's the tiniest and quickest moments that burn into our memory banks. My first daughter learning to crawl is one of those moments. As her little chubby body got momentum crawling along at her grandparent's house, she suddenly realized she was in new territory and freaked out. She scanned the room in a panic, looking for her safe place. She spotted me and b-lined, crawling faster than ever before, to me. I was her safe place, her anchor. The memory of the panic in her eyes leaving her once she locked eyes with me pops up all the time when she struggles now. It reminds me not to get frustrated with her frustration, as she views me as her safe place.

Whether it's a destination sunset, a small intimate moment with a loved one, a tragic event altering the lives of everyone around it, or a singular event that sets you on a new course, the sights, sounds, feel, the smell of the moment might stick with you forever. Reminding you of something you need at the moment, the memory comes back to you. Maybe memories stick with us as long as they need to, shaping the current moment, steering our present self. So what becomes of our memories? They layer over each other during the span of our lives and make us, us. Without them we are nothing. With them, we are a unique story, one the world has never seen. It's why we should all do better, to make better memories for the people around us, because when we are gone, that's how we help them carry on without us.