I've been thinking a lot about memories lately. I guess a class on how our body ages started it. The memory, short term, is the first to go. That's why we can remember who we sat next to in second grade, but can't find where we put a certain letter or bill. And then Margaret's death, following the year after Ria, and all you have left of them is memories.

You don't have any memories before your child is born. Oh, maybe the conception. Timmy was conceived on New Year's Eve and he's told me his father kept the cork from the champagne bottle. I remember about two weeks before Ria was born, I was watching the Memorial Day parade and a drummer banged his drum right in front of me. Ria jumped in my belly about a foot and I recall thinking, "Well, at least she isn't deaf." They say you never can remember the pains of labor, as soon as they hand you that beautiful baby, it is forgotten. I don't know about that...it comes in handy when you are arguing with your kid, and you start in about the delivery and what you went through.

Anyway, last Friday we were all at Margaret's house, looking through pictures, picking out specific ones to display at her Memorial. One was of me and I said, "Oh, yes, that was a Tivoli clean-up day and we were all at the park afterwards for refreshments. Liz was with me and we rode around town picking up bottles and garbage." Now, where the hell did that come from. Margaret had labeled the picture 1993, 16 years ago, and one look at the picture and the whole day comes back.

That's like with Ria. The other day I remember the summer before she died and we were sitting by the pool, watching the kids in the water. Rachael was sitting with us and I turned to Maria and said, "Ginny sent me a joke today. I think it's funny, do you want to hear it?" Ok, Ma she said with a little shrug, like why not? So I started. And the funny thing is I never can remember jokes, I always forget an important line or even the punch line, but this joke sticks in my head like glue, probably because I was with Ria. Well, I started - an old couple were on their first date, and they go out to eat, have a nice meal, nice conversation, lots of wine and they end up in his apartment. Sure enough, a little later they have sex. Afterwards, he is thinking, "If I knew she was a virgin, I would have gone easier on her." And she's thinking, "If I knew he could get it up, I would have taken off my panty hose." Well, Rachael huffed..."That's disgusting," and got up and left. Maria looked at me seriously, and said, "Poor old people, everyone makes fun of them" and then she laughed, her wonderful laugh, that I hope I will always remember. And I laughed too, and we kept laughing thinking about the old lady with her panty hose on. And that's what I mean about memories. We really don't have control of them, they can pop up anytime and just about anything. And I am thankful, oh so thankful that I have them..of Maria, of Margaret, of Bucky and Daddy, Uncle Jack, Grandma and Poppy, on and on. It's like a part of them is still here, stuck somewhere in the cauliflower folds of my brain. Hiding, but ready to come out at any minute.