I've been drowning in a sea of memories lately. Not that this is a bad thing. In fact, these memory floods seem to occur more often when I'm in the zone and writing well.
This morning I was remembering when I was a teen and I worked at Masoret Arabians. The manager there took pity on me one day when I was standing along the fenceline drooling at the horses and made me an offer. He would teach me how to ride in exchange for my labor in the barns. I would muck stalls at first, and then move up to brushing the horses, and then exercising them. It was a wonderful couple of years. He was also my first schoolgirl crush, which made everything so much sweeter.
I was also remembering my ten-year class reunion. I made a total ass of myself. On a dare from my sisters, I went to it dressed like a slut. Of course, back then I had the body to carry it off, but I still shouldn't have done it. Instead of presenting myself like the upwardly mobile professional I was, I presented myself like trailer-trash. Not that I really care what most of those people think of me, but I met one of my long lost best friends while I was there, and I don't think she got the joke. I tried calling her after the reunion so we could get together like real human beings and she never returned my call. Of course, she was a teacher in a Catholic school, so my guess is we really don't have anything in common any more, but still, it was a missed opportunity.
Memories are wonderful things, and great fodder for your writing. I could probably use the above to weave into a couple of shorts. I know I could use my experiences to build better characters, settings and scenes. (In fact, I have done just that in several instances.)
What do you remember?
1 hour ago