Sunday, November 01, 2009

Travels, Day 27, On The Way To Guatemala

Mom's last entry:
Date: July 15, 1972 Saturday
Place: 3 AVE 6-77 zone 14
"We now have an address. Moved in today. [Dad] + I went to the house and cleaned cabinets and closets out. Workers are still working - furniture came. Boys + [Dad] unloaded the trailer + car while I put things away."
Mom's travel journal ends with us moving into our first Guatemalan home. It was a three bedroom duplex. The phone lines were a party line for the two houses and our duplex neighbors were Japanese. It was kind of fun to answer the phone and hear "Moshi Moshi". 

My nine years in Guatemala were a mix of good and bad. I think when I left in 1981, after graduating from High School, the bad stayed with me more than the good and in the vain attempt to forget the bad, the good faded as well. All I have left are little bits and pieces of good times mixed in with the shards of memories I long to forget. The sad thing is most of the bad was self induced. I could have had a wonderful adolescents full of friends and adventure but I chose an introverted, shy, anti-social, life style. I had friends, good friends, but I let those friendships end with the ringing of the last school bell.

Now some thirty-eight years later Facebook, of all things, has reintroduced me to some of those good friends. They remember me in a better light than I remember myself. Some, who I considered bullies at the time, want to reminisce about the good ol' days. Go figure. I guess we all mature as our memories fade.

So what do I do? I scramble to piece together the scraps of good memories that have survived in my muddled brain. I try to regain what I have so carelessly thrown away. In the end I shake my head at the futility of it all and mourn what I've lost.

2 comments:

  1. Sometimes it's difficult to live completely without regret. I'd attempt to offer advice but, well, you've read my blog...

    ReplyDelete