What Makes a Memory

When they called our name to seat us, Fehmeen and Emma were shopping for a headband in the store next to the California Pizza Kitchen restaurant at the Hillsdale Mall. We had decided to head to the mall to pick up birthday outfits for me and The Bug before going home after our weekend getaway in Monterey and we wanted to grab a quick bite to eat. We didn’t want the traditional food court fare and since the wait for a table wasn’t too long, we opted for CPK.

Accoutrement bag tucked neatly away in the underbelly of the baby’s stroller, my two beautiful ladies rejoined me as we entered the bustling eatery. We traversed the maze of stationary tables and scurrying wait staff in order to find our cozy table for three hidden behind a wall around a corner. It wasn’t too long after we were seated and had placed our order did our food arrive.

At some point between my first and second slice of garlic chicken pizza, Fehmeen removed Emma from the wooden baby seat and sat her on her lap. I absently watched the two of them as Fehmeen alternated between feeding Emma small bites of my pizza and eating her own Miso salad. There they were, not a concern in the world, save for the taste of the food in their mouths; they looked so peaceful, so serene, so contented. As I stared at my family, I felt my love for them welling up inside me, looking for a place to escape. I told them in my clearest possible voice, “You and Emma make me so happy.”

It was in that all too brief moment in time that I realized you don’t need to go on any elaborate vacations or do anything extreme and out of character to make an everlasting memory. All you have to do is give yourself permission to experience these fleeting moments as they happen. I can accumulate all the digital photographs on all the hard drives the world over, but they will never approach the lush beauty and vivid clarity of the memory of Fehmeen and Emma from that night in the restaurant.

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