Memories are tricky. When I think of memories, I think of personal experiences, stories that are told through generations, stories we tell ourselves, photos, and thanks to Malcom Gladwell, I think of their inherent unreliability.
When I remembered I used to have a blog this morning, I searched for the website wondering if it would still be up. It took a few tries to remember the name, but the effort certainly paid off after a few searches. And just as an example of how unreliable memories are, I truly thought I had only written 3-5 posts. Looking back through the blog this morning, I saw THREE years worth of memories!
I have a tendency to remember the bad, the hard, the things I wished I had done differently, in and among some of the good. We are made up of what memories we have and stories we tell ourselves, so I have been actively trying to rewrite my narrative. When I found my blog this morning, it was such a beautiful reminder of what our life was like before we moved. It’s a beautiful ledger of our life and today I’m incredible grateful for this record and it’s purpose in helping me rewrite my narrative.
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