Memories change as each year passes. I have forgotten more than I remember, but I know more than I ever have. Things I experienced as negative or scary or painful, or even lots of fun, are now positive, not at all frightening or emotionally painful, and not quite as much fun my memory tells me from when I was 10 years old . Alot of those things I imagine I remember are situations I am glad I survived and sometimes escaped from, especially boyfriends who didn't turn out so great.... I treasure those things I used to abhor like going to sleep at a decent time or having NOTHING to do! (I imagine there was a time when that was a complaint I dared make. Oh, if only I could get the time back!) . And , of course, the memories are exclusively personal. When I reminisce with my friends and family I find that my version is a little different than what they remember. The general situation is the same, but the nuances are fairly wide-ranging depending on how many are involved in the particular memory session. My brother and sister blame it on my relative youth compared to them. I am the youngest of three.
Lately I have also been thinking of candidates for my new series started in 2010 called Friends I Dream of and Friends I Know; I think this is also a product of nostagia. I have been thinking about the ofrenda I will create in honor of Dr. Margaret Burroughs with several artists from Sapphire and Crystals collective for the National Mexican Museum this fall. So I have been thinking of memories, of Dr. Burroughs and of my life.
When I was 20
I knew everything
I knew nothing
I was old.
I was too young
I was not ready for marriage and children
I should have had a child
I wondered if I could be an artist
I was so beautiful
I wished I was good looking
I didn't know what I had.
"My Friend Followed Her Dreams: Margaret Burroughs"
I realize that I don't regret what I have done. I only regret what I did not do.
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