An Evening Of Memories...

Bad memories are much like gnats. They show up at the most beautiful of times and no matter what you do you can't seem to get rid of them. (And by 'you' I mean 'I'.) They get in your eyes and nose and ears and mouth until you want to scream with frustration. You can't escape them. You can hardly tolerate them. All you can do is keep moving. (Unless you're Cassie, then you lap at them with your tongue and try to eat them. But that really ruins the tone of this posting.)

Sweet memories are like standing knee-deep in a lake and watching the little fish swim by your feet. Slick and shimmering, they come when they want, go when they want, and if you try to catch them they simply disappear. So instead, you hold your breath and watch them, hoping that they'll stay.

When I let my eyes move up from the screen of my computer and level out my vision, I see a little tiny rubber figure of Spyro the dragon. He's small enough that I can set him on a quarter and his little rubber bottom doesn't go over the edges. It's funny how I got him...

One day at work (which was, at the time, the local grocery store) a little boy, probably about five or six, comes up behind me, tugs on my shirt tail and says, "Miss? Miss?"

"Yeah, sweetie," I say, turning around to face him. "Need something?"

"Here go," he says, holding out his fist to me, dirty knuckles facing upward. "I found this."

He dropped a little, tiny rubber figurine of Spyro the Dragon into my palm. "Aww.... are you sure you don't want to keep it. I mean, Spyro's pretty cool. He even has his own video game and stuff."

"No, no," he said, "I found it and I want to give it to you."

"Oh, wow. Thank you, sweetie. Spyro is so cool. That was very nice of you."

The little boy gave me a big smile, feeling good at his generosity (or so I assume) and walked off, chest all puffed out in pride.

Somehow, out of everything on my mind, that's the memory that surfaced at the moment... little Spyro, who I sat on my cash register for a month afterward, who finally came home to grace my desk and give me a sweet little reminder that some people in this world truly do have hearts, instead of a false front of one.

That was four years ago. Now I wonder where that little boy is.