On Being Asked to Select the Most Memorable Day of My Life by Rebecca K.
Published on Aug 30, 2018
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On Being Asked to Select the Most Memorable Day of My Life
by Rebecca K.
Photo by Kaptain Kobold
Five-thousand thirty-seven. That’s how many days I have to choose from.
How could I just pick one that’s my most memorable?
Photo by Eisbäärchen
The day I turned ten? The day my brother, dad, and I hiked Mt. Washington? The day I rode my first horse? The day I won my first blue ribbon with him? The day I first met my youngest brother? The day I won the Young Naturalist Award? The day I finally learned how to do a parallel turn in skiing? The day I first held my boxer puppy?
Photo by Muye Ma
But I don’t remember the days. I remember the moments. I don’t
remember the day I turned ten. I remember eleven pink candles on a chocolate cake, one for good luck.
Photo by French Disko
I don’t remember the day I won my first blue ribbon with my horse. I just remember the feel of that last jump, how the world seemed to hold still and we were in the air for too long not to be flying. I remember the buttercups I had wound into his braided mane.
Photo by julochka
I don’t remember the day I finally learned how to parallel ski. I just remember the second when everything came together and I was suddenly gliding down over the bright, white snow that was making rainbows dance off my skis.
Photo by Nick Kenrick..
I don’t remember whole days. Just moments, that I can’t give a date or time. When I was little I tried to capture the brilliant light of stained glass windows in my hand and carry it home. Moments are like that; I can’t hold them, but I still remember them.
Photo by neil conway
