The creator of Peter Pan, James M. Barrie, wrote, “God gave us memories that we might have roses in December.” Many would find that notion to be warm and poetic as it was intended, while others might consider it pure schmaltz. I could go either way, depending, in part, on how much pinot noir still resides in my glass.
However, I can identify with the “December” aspect as my eighth decade of life has now left the station and is due to arrive in just a few months. And my mind now produces memories in ever increasing volume, variety and velocity, and they often come unbidden. My mind has a mind of its own.