Memories define a life....

Who are you? Are we a sum collection of the decision we have made, or maybe we are what others perceive us to be. Perhaps the definition of our existence exists only in our own minds and in reality we are amorphous creatures of morality. I really don't know how to define who I am. I can use the ideas of others, the parameters for which they limit an existence. I am a son of God, that works, I am a lover of life and people,....again that works. Perhaps it is best to describe what we are not? I am not going to attempt to solve my own conundrum, but rather it was this thought that has plagued me throughout the day. My final solution was that my memories, the way I perceive significant events in my life could best be used as a measure of who I am. Of course my perception of myself derives from memories such as these most poignant ones, but my point of view of them may be different than someone else's. I am whatever you think I am, but please judge it by the most important memories I could think of myself today. I have limited it to fifteen memories that have some of the strongest emotional attachments to them, and surprisingly some are rather mundane.

Memory 1)

The cold water feels runs over the top of my calloused feet. Those callouses bear the testimony to hours spent running on the rocks in front of my house, and the stubbled grassy fields of my ranch, or perhaps from the numerous hours spent walking the shoreline of Governor creek as my brother would fish. Life is amazing at 5, no worries just the constant need to explore and learn. I remember that later Clay is going to be taking me to go "hunt" mice with our dogs way out past the horse pasture. I am so excited, in fact I am so excited I start to walk towards the horse pasture just in anticipation. To get to the fields and beyond is a small stream. That streams seems so big, I have lost my latest pair of rubber water boots in it just a few days ago. I don't want to lose more boots, my family wasn't happy. I carefully take my boots and place them by the swing set and walk towards the only bridge across the small stream. This bridge is part of an old milk crate and it has just recently replaced the old two by four Clay put down to cross the river. The old two by four was rotting away, but always supported my weight and I am saddened that it is no longer there. I go and stand in the tall grass by the makeshift bridge and look out at the horses. I move closer to the water, the water really does feel amazing on my calloused feet. As I stand by the edge of the water I hear a small rustle in the grass. The stream is barely rippling across my feet as out of the grass a small garter snake, with red along the side of its belly slithers into the stream. Along with the stream it slithers across my feet. I am in shock, and immediately I fear this small creature that startled me and ruins the feeling of the water across my feet. I don't cry out...not until it is long past in the water and I am still shivering in fright. I start to cry and my tears join the water of the small stream as it carries those feelings along with the tears into faraway lands and eventually the Gulf of Mexico.

......memory 2 tomorrow