Puzzle pieces

When I look back on my younger life, there are spots that are just gone. I don't remember sections of my life. Where I lived, where I went to school, who I hung out with. It bothers me for some reason. I think most people have pretty solid memories starting around age five or so. I remember parts of that age, then a little here and there after that. I remember the big moments, the crossroads, and pivotal points in my life. Just not much in between. I can remember song lyrics, phone numbers, who likes what on their burger, birthdays, and many other odd details but not my own days. I am sure there is a reason, I am not sure what it is. In any case, I enjoy digging!

I have online friends that are virtual strangers, yet I have known for years. I love Facebook! I type in a name, a name I have never forgotten, a name I thought I had forgotten, a name I barely remember and most often they are there. Sometimes it is enough just to know they are "there", and sometimes I go ahead and contact them. I never have an agenda really, it's all in fun. Now I'm not talking about friending a friend's third cousin that I met at a party once, I look for people I know and who will know me. Some of them I have decided I am better off forgetting, and some of them have slipped right back into my life like they never left.

There are roommates, boyfriends, friends that are boys, family friends, and even long lost family. I found a friend I had when I was twelve! Do we talk? No, but the memories it sparked have made my puzzle a little more intact.

One memory I have is of a boy, a very cute boy in fact. He let me wear his class ring. Then we moved abruptly. I don't remember if I ever got to say goodbye to him. Not long after we left our home, that ring was taken from me and I was never able to return it. I have felt guilt over that for quite a lot of years! I have said "someday" I will find him and replace that ring. So I did, I found him. Easy peasy. As soon as I did, memories came flooding back out of nowhere. Ok, out of somewhere, the "nowhere" of my memory. This afternoon I cruised through the neighborhood where we met. What a trip! It's so funny how places you remember from childhood are always so much smaller than you remember them! It's also odd that that neighborhood is less than two miles from me, and I have not been through it in over 25 years.

I don't even know why any of this is important, or if it is at all. But I feel compelled to put pieces together, I feel the pull and who am I to ignore that?

Maybe I was never really as unhappy as I remembered being growing up. Maybe things were never really as bad as I remember them being. Maybe I was more loved than I remember. Or less. All I know is remembering is, so far, better than not.

"Remembering is better than knowing and not remembering". I think that is some self-help crap wisdom I read somewhere, but it's fairly true.

Piece by piece.