Memories: What are they good for anyway.

    I was little and looking up at my mother's face as we stood in the pew  in church. Her expression was serious and serene, and different from when she was at  home with us and in her own surroundings. I studied her face and I knew I did not know what she was thinking, what was in her mind. I realized too that I would never know, even if I asked, which I would never do. It came to me even at that young age that we never know what other people are thinking.  

   Later on, I would ask, but the answer still never came. Dave and I would be traveling a long distance by car, just the two of us, to Canada maybe or to Cape Cod or some place. The radio would be out of range, so there was quiet  for much of the way. My mind would have covered dozens of thoughts, maybe even more, past, present, future.  I'd look over at Dave driving in silence and ask what he was thinking about. His answer was always the same. "Nothing, I'm not thinking of anything." 

  About this time of year, a vivid memory  comes into my mind so sharply that it seems almost like the present time. Dorothy and Sandy and I are walking home from church, maybe Midnight Mass, at the time before the pastors were so elderly and overworked that the service actually was at midnight. It had snowed;  the sidewalks were as yet unplowed, so we are walking three abreast in the middle of the road. We are all talking, not loudly but the air is so clear our voices are echoing. It is wintry and cold but we are wearing winter coats and boots that crunch in the snow so we are not really aware of the weather. We are talking about nothing significant, just heading home to our houses. Main Street then led straight to the entrance and roadway of the  bridge. The light  seemed to beckon us onward, over the bridge to who knows where. Or so it seemed to me, though of course in words unspoken. As we got closer to where we would turn off to our houses, I felt a pang. I didn't want the night to end, I just  wished we could keep walking to wherever it led. 

   I think it is true that we never  know what other people, no matter how close we are to them, are really thinking. Any more than we reveal our true thoughts to them.  Or so it seems.