Flotsam in the stream
2/1/10/2250
These recordings and notes and videos and movies and DVDs, writings.
Good chance they will outlive me, us.
I imagine Angela having them after we are gone.
Pieces of her unremembered infant toddler childhood.
Days and lives and a world in which she lived but has no memory.
I wonder if she will care, if she’ll treasure them hold them dear as the gift they are meant to be or if she’ll chunk them in the bin.
What kind of heart and soul will she have? Aren’t we creating that now to a large extent? She will feel as she has been shown by us.
These things around me will outlive me. Like these things from our parents house outlived them. They might say of these we are the most precious. But to us these pieces these artifacts these tokens of memory and a life and a time and a family and the relationships we enjoyed with each other. These are precious to us. Old papers even. Precious. They vibrate still with the energy and life of the hand and mind and heart that wrote them. Even random lists and phone numbers. A Rolodex. Thoughts to theirself. Notes. Pieces of stuff that look for all the world like junk. Random miscellaneous junk. Precious. And what happens with them when we ourselves then are gone? Their meanings lost with our own memory. But she will have her own relics and touchstones. Things of our life our world here that I hope she looks back and cherishes. Things that to me to us are just brick a brack of life a home. But some things will have meaning for her. A spoon. A clock. A photograph. A ceramic angel. A picture. A toy. A thousand things yet to come. Years to go. A lifetime to go. The lifetime of a family yet to go. I wonder if anything I leave for her will survive her. How far into the future will these pieces go. How long before something for $6 at target in 2010 becomes a family heirloom. I like the thought of some things travelling far into the future. Generations yet to come. They’ll say that was great great great grandfathers clock. Or notebook. Or bible. He got that back in 1937. It is almost 200 years old and still works. But your child has to have children. Successful children. Successful enough to raise a family without the need to sell the family items. Successful enough to raise children that are successful enough in turn. And in turn. The more you have the better your odds that something will continue. A little piece of your own precious family continues. Even if just a faint whisper.
