Remembering.

When I was about 16, I spent a lot of time with my best friend, MariaRosa. She lived on a busy, noisy road with constant traffic and hooting of horns—a veritable cacophony of sound.

Yet when you entered the house and went out back, the whole scene changed completely. There, towering behind the house in all its majestic greatness was the Kensington Koppie (Hill).

Early one morning we climbed the koppie together to watch the sun rise.

The world was sleepily awakening as we puffed and giggled our way up the hill.

We settled down on a rock as the slow change from night to day began.

That beautiful transition from dark to light.

The silent anticipation of the dawn and the newness that the day brings.

As the sun’s rays tiptoed across the vista, its golden fingers touched our rock. We were suddenly bathed in the gentle caress of a promise.

God’s promise of each new day.

A Sacred Moment.

The moment was sacred to us as we sat snuggled next to each other. Somehow knowing that our souls were in communion with each other. Words weren’t necessary.

I remember that moment so clearly even though 30 years have passed.

We were battling with adolescence. Everything seemed so hard and the world was a confusing place.

I had felt death’s hand in my life and that of my family.

I was grieving.

My life as I knew it had changed irrevocably. Forever.

Yet, somehow, in our silent vigil, we both knew that there was more.

Our young, inexperienced minds were able to listen to the gentle heartbeat of the universe.

To get an inkling that at that very moment, for a brief instant, all was well.

The passing of years.

Many years and many adventures later, I often drive past MariaRosa’s old house and the Kensington Koppie.

Rushing to fetch kids from school.

Whizzing to work.

Speeding past to visit my aged mother and her dementia.

Trotting off to yoga classes.

Always busy, just like the rest of the traffic hurtling along that road.

Yet, I look up at the hill every time I drive past and I remember, and I smile.

Cherishing Memories

What memories do you hold dear? What makes you smile? Spend some time in silence, listening to your heart and pull up the memories that you treasure.

Which one in particular draws your attention?

Hold onto it. Write it down. Draw it. Tell someone.

That way, they don’t remain just a memory but actually get woven into the fabric of our universe.

They give our loved ones something to remember us by one day.

Happy reminiscing!

Dawn Meysel hails from South Africa. Wife, Mother of Twins, Lover of books, her bed, her family, her two Zen Masters (her cats) and chocolate. She’s astounded by love and grace, appalled at hatred and injustice.  Intrepid seeker of Truth, student of the soul and spirituality, counselor, friend. She’s part of a nation clawing its way to restoration, forgiveness and healing. There’s still a long way to go but she’s excited to be alive at this time with SA’s rainbow nation, cultural and religious diversity and really good, funky food! She’s a novice student of yoga, a vegetarian, animal rights activist and non flakey in the nicest way! She lives by two mottos, “This too shall pass” and “Now, with God’s help, I shall become myself.” You can contact her at [email protected].

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Ed: Kate Bartolotta