Today, while I was working, I had a few thoughts. I don't want to offend or hurt anybody in my family, and I know they will read this but I kind of feel that I have to write it anyway. My thoughts were this... Why is it that good memories seem to fade like the day turning into night but bad memories burn in like a white hot nail into a dry piece of wood? Here's where it's probably going to get a little hairy; I'm going to give a couple examples and hope that nobody takes offense because there is no malice or ill will intended.
I can't seem to remember a whole lot of really great times with my parents, but I know I did have them. I know that my mom loves me very much and she regrets this happening, but I used to spend a lot of Friday nights at a bar with her and my dad. At first it would be OK, I would eat maraschino cherries and those little orange slices like crazy, and I would play the jukebox with handfuls of quarters that they and their friends would give me. But that was only fun for so long. I remember getting bored and lonely, and asking and begging to go home but the more I begged, the longer they stayed and the drunker they got. I hated it. I saw quite a few drunken fights between them, and it was pretty scary sometimes. As much as I hated this experience, I did the same thing to my daughter, and I'm very ashamed of it.
Another thing that seems to fade with time is the memory of the births of my children. I used to be able to recall every minute, infinitesimal detail of their births, but now I just remember the basics. I can, however, tell you exactly what happened the new years eve night that I had to give my daughter to my ex-wife. She had filed for custody in the state of Kansas and had come to Virginia to get Megan. I kept her at bay for a while but eventually I was given the choice of riding up to the gate and handing Megan over or having the police and social services removing her and taking her to my ex-wife. I chose to take her myself and it was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.
Maybe it's just the way I am. I might be stuck looking at how empty my glass is instead of how full it is. It might just be normal to remember what hurts better than what feels good, I don't know but I wish it were the other way around.
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