Reminders

There are two bags sitting by the door to the garage. A well-used green cloth one contains library books ready to be returned and the plastic grocery bag, clothes to take to Goodwill. When I left the office on Friday I stuck a post-it on the computer to highlight a task that needs to be done first thing Monday morning. Calendars and alerts on our phone tell us of appointments or needed follow-ups. Those are the easy practical kind of reminders of a Saturday or workday to-do list.

My body is the source of many reminders. It tells me when I need fuel and when I need to sleep. Restlessness is an indication I need to move and a twinge can let me know it's time to stop. I resent the reminders like blue veins and brown spots and my new bifocals that reflect aging, but these are common to all of us.

There are wonderful reminders of adventures and loved ones throughout my home. Photo albums and souvenirs let me relive trips; family pieces and knick-knacky gifts reflect a connection. I might pass someone on the street who makes a gesture or walks in a certain way reminiscent of someone from my past. These are all nostalgic reminders.

Our ancestors relied on nature for their reminders. They got up when it was light and went to bed when it turned dark. They read the weather and knew when to plant and when to harvest. Our past weekend was a tease from Mother Nature who hinted that spring is coming even while forecasters tell us that it is still winter and snow is predicted for Wednesday. I appreciate weather because it is a constant reminder that we are not in control. 

Tomorrow the doctor will finally remove the stitches from my palm. There will be a scar that will remind me of the few days of pain and few weeks of inconvenience resulting from an accident that could have been so much worse. I occasionally have a flashback to the two moments of impact – first walking into the wall and then falling backwards and hitting the floor. It is a brief reminder of the jolt, collision and tumble. My flashback is but a shadow compared to those warriors with PTSD. Those who serve and victims from severe accidents who lost limbs or mobility or pieces of who they had been, bear a constant reminder of trauma. These personal experience reminders can help us build bridges from our past to our future and to others on a parallel road.

I used to enjoy sitting down once a month to take care of bills. That evening was a good reminder of why I work, my responsibilities and the cash flow in and out. Today income is deposited and debts automatically withdrawn. Sure, a reminder appears in my inbox that a transaction happened or is due, but requires no intervention on my part. My car tells me to put on my seat belt and to be careful because it might snow. 

I wonder if we don't have too many reminders about the wrong things built in to our days. The men and women with 'homeless, please help' signs on the expressway ramp and those longer commercials on television featuring abused and starving children and animals are reminders of a different sort. These are reminders that we live in a world that is not equal and are ones that make me uncomfortable. I actually think we need more of these, difficult though they may be.

 
Marilyn