Stimulate Your Memories, Drawing On Your Senses

No need for hypnosis or hours of meditation to relive moments of magic.

Sense of Touch ~ Ages 5–16

Stepping onto the ice rink at the start of a new day, that first glide invited the icy breeze of movement to pat my cheeks with a hello I could inhale further.

As speed increased and courage grew, I met the bare and firm ice block below me multiple times on my tush or my knees. I felt the limbs swell and tender bruises forming, knowing I would keep going. I wore the wet, cold clothing with pride as a reminder of jump attempts.

The crossover of pleasure and pain intermingling set me up for challenges that began with smiles, grimaces, and grunts entertaining my sessions and ending with determined goals and joy for another day.

Sense of Sight ~ Motherhood

Thoroughly sanitizing hands, gowning up, hair covered, mask on, and limiting visitors wasn’t a recent memory. It was May 2003 when my daughter was born by emergency C-section two months early. I remember the keycard access doors opening for my first time in the NICU. I was led in by my wheelchair, hardly recovered from my surgery, and in to see my daughter.

My eyes flitted about the room catching glints of flashing lights on monitors accompanied by alarms and beeps. I didn’t know if I wanted to understand what they all meant.

Gasping in motherly sighs, I saw her boxed in, hooked up, and her eyes closed. How do tears, smiles, the strength of a lion, and helplessness like a lamb embody everything inside me in one brief moment? I was praying in gratitude for her castle enclosure and glorious Knights of the NICU armed with stethoscopes and the tiniest medical instruments I would ever see.

I will never forget when I held her. The weight of the blanket was heavier than her but seeing her gaze of knowing I was there catapulted my hope for a future she was already believing.

Sense of Smell ~ Throughout childhood

Growing up, I knew our family was welcomed into my Oma and Opa’s house with open arms and floating clouds of pot roast aroma whenever we visited.

This was a favorite meal of my Mom’s, so she treated us growing up as well to the legacy-laced scents. Passing down family meals and traditions keeps memories alive and helps cement the smells into triggers that won’t easily fade.

I didn’t inherit cooking skills, but that doesn’t mean I’ll give up trying. I like experimenting on my own in hopes of finding the magic or inventing something new for another generation.

When in doubt, I call Mom. She happily sends me a recipe or invites us to partake in the restored memories as an extended family.

Sense of Hearing ~ Every memory with my Mom

My Mom doesn’t even need to sing the words from “You Are My Sunshine” for me to hear them from her heart every time I’m with her. She sang it when I was a baby, but I never remember not hearing it.

I sang it to my kids and all the kids I’ve ever cared for through the years. My Mom, as Oma, sang it still to her Grandkids, warming the hearts and ears of even more generations.

No matter what we didn’t know in life, we all knew; I knew, I was her Sunshine.

Sense of Taste ~ Elementary years

The saliva swirls as I imagine the buttery smooth caramel ribbons and cream sweetened with a crunch of the pralines-n-cream ice cream on a waffle cone from Nelson’s in Stillwater, MN.

It stood 1/4 my size. I’d stare at it, unsure I was blinking, planning my lick strategy. No plan prevailed besides jumps of joy in my happy tummy. The drips that streamed down my hand were caught with giggles when I knew I couldn’t keep up. Oh, but the fun of the attempt.

To a child under 3 feet tall, I felt like I was balancing a stack of plates on a high stick in the air. One scoop didn’t exist or was measured by your face size instead of fist size portions.

This truly is how ice cream should be delectably devoured. The size should paralyze your appetite for anything besides this masterpiece of choices ready at the scoop. Price shouldn’t teeter from the change jars of our past saved for each delight. Clocks should be stopped, cars parked, and only the sound of laughter and infinite, satisfying mmmms of yummy lusciousness.

Time machines do exist in the senses that lure our reality back to experiences not forgotten, only layered by flips of the calendars. You can grow in appreciation of that brief step back to celebrate the memory, honor it, give it due thanks, and love what it gave you or taught you.

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