Meet Dave the duck, the only thing he has in common with this story is the snow he is standing in. He’s here because he’s cute.
What is amazing about memories is that they are true to us, but they are stories. Here are the facts: it snowed that evening, I had to walk in the snow because the reserved parking spot was taken by my mom’s car, my best friend threw a snowball at me and said something along the lines of making memories. As long as you have the fundamental facts right you can fill in the details however you want.
“It’s freezing,” I growled. I didn’t want to walk the six-ish minutes it would take from the side street to my apartment in the snow. I was finding every reason to be annoyed and angry. An icy shower made me whip around.
“Think of it this way,” my friend said smiling, “we are making memories.”
I wanted to be annoyed at her too for poking fun at my sulking, but she was right.
Memories are fundamental to stories. Before we wrote, we spoke. Telling memories and exaggerating them a bit. I could take that memory and make it far more dramatic then it actually was (let’s be honest, when I was seventeen and living in that moment, I probably thought this was exactly what happened).
It was the first blizzard I had ever experienced and I was livid. My mother worked from home and she had taken our only reserved spot, even though I told her we would be late. My best friend and I were tired and walking the fifteen minutes it would take from the street to my warm apartment in this mess was the worst thing that could have happened.
“Think of it this way,” my best friend said shivering, “at least we are making memories.”
However, when I talk about this memory I try to keep it as true as I can, because it was something very sweet for me. Though this memory wasn’t a grand day in the snow filled with sledding and hot cocoa, as a matter of fact it lasted all of ten minutes, it became significant. It really changed the way I think about the things I do or don’t do daily. It made me a bit more adventurous. It made me realize that the small choices I make turn into really good stories. Even if they are just about the time I had a minor inconvenience.
Have you ever had a moment in your life that really change your perspective? What was it? How does it play a role in your life’s narrative?