Moment Memories

Memories are odd to me because there seems to be no rhyme or reason to a lasting memory. I can remember odd little moments in my life story that were seemingly insignificant at the time yet somehow they etched a carving into my brain like an etching in a sparkling crystal glass. As if it happened this morning, I can remember being very small, not even school age yet, standing and peaking out Venetian blinds looking across our snow covered yard. I can still see the tiny bird feet prints in the snow as clearly as if I only just looked at a photograph of it. It was nothing special. It is only a moment. Time moved forward. Another moment memory except this time, I am standing in that same yard except this time in summer looking up at a giant full moon being amazed at its grandeur and mystery wondering where time would take me in my life. I have millions of these moment memories. I cannot nearly begin to remember large events. I know they happened but no moment memories there. For example, I cannot remember one single first day on the job. It seems like something that nerve racking would rate a memory, right? Apparently, not so for me. I can tell you every single Christmas gift I received when I was 15 years old but I cannot tell you the same between then and now. Why do I remember that one so clearly? The mind is a mystery. Will I remember writing this someday? I couldn't tell you.