Why does everything always seem more extreme in hindsight? Bad memories become awful events we shudder to remember and shove out of our minds as quickly as possible, even when the memory is something insignificant in the bigger picture. Good memories though.... mmmm. Those we savor, the way you roll really good coffee around in your mouth so you can pick out all the subtle notes and textures and flavors. (You don't do that? Too bad.) We reflect on good times through rose-colored glasses. I remember sunshine in most good memories, although I'm sure it wasn't always there.
All that to say that I'm okay with rose-colored memories. I have a particular memory from college that sparked this runaway thought-train. I have a friend who loves coffee as much as I do, if not maybe a tiny bit more. Her room was in the hall above mine and we used to walk to class together with some friends once or twice a week. It was a nice perk that she had a coffee maker and was generous with it, since I didn't have one. She's also a very neat person, and a morning person. So my memories of those mornings are of sunshine streaming through her window, usually onto her still-sleeping roommate, with me sitting on her made bed in her neat and clean half of the room, staring at the magazine pictures of mountains and horses she had covering her wall, while drinking fresh coffee. I think it was in those mornings (during which I was somewhat of a tagalong in the group), that our friendship was born. We live at least 13 hours away from each other now, and each of us lead busy lives that prevent anything resembling frequent communication. But we share common loves and kindred spirits, which means that those mornings way back when are enough. I don't have to experience her presence to be reminded of it. Memory can be a curse, but is a beautiful gift.
