My Favorite Memory
by Virginia Carraway Stark
Now written in stone, ink or even pencil
My favorite memory flits from a scene
In still life, vivid oil colors or a water color
With seeping edges, blurring the lines
Of individuals into a collage of color and sights
My favorite memory is most likely my first memory
When I watched a feather on a breeze and felt
Such awe at each little bit of white, each bit of down
Picked out and vivid in its detail still
Because I thought at that moment
That this was a special bit of magic
The voice of the universe itself talking to me
I was very young, around two
It had never occurred to me before that memory
Was for keeps
Maybe it was a hint from the universe
Or my own brain growing a little bit smarter
I reached out with my mind and snatched that moment
I had learned something new and wonderful
It was the video recorder of my mind and I
knew that this wasn’t a one time trick,
that I could capture any memory I wanted
And pull it out of my brain’s filing cabinet at will
That is one of my favorite memories,
but there are so many more
The moment I first laid eyes on my love
knowing he was the one and ever doubting
That I had ever chosen wrong.
Realizing that I didn’t have to finish university
is one of my favorite memories.
Knowing that what I was learning was trite
And foolish and I was never meant to be
A doctor or a lawyer. They tell all the smart kids that’s
What they should be
Highs or lows, ups and downs
Life’s endless symphony playing constantly
How to choose a moment in a song
a single note that is my favorite
Or even a single key
Journeying far and wide
Sometimes in wealth, sometimes in poverty
It was the journey that was important
The learning. Other ways, other people,
I plunged myself into the symphony
And like that first feather,
I remembered it all, putting it away
To take out and look at when
I have my doubts or sorrow strikes me hard
My favorite memory is being able to have memory
Even the wounds put on me are mine
To learn from and to take away from them
What I will. I cannot question if I’m singing right
Not in this masterpiece of song
My favorite memory is this symphony of life
and plucking feathers from the air