Quotes About Memories

Asleep by the Smiths Vapour Trail by Ride Scarborough Fair by Simon & Garfunkel A Whiter Shade of Pale by Procol Harum Dear Prudence by the Beatles Gypsy by Suzanne Vega Nights in White Satin by the Moody Blues Daydream by Smashing Pumpkins Dusk by Genesis (before Phil Collins was even in the band!) MLK by U2 Blackbird by the Beatles Landslide by Fleetwood Mac Asleep by the Smiths (again!) -Charlie's mixtape

I don't even remember the season. I just remember walking between them and feeling for the first time that I belonged somewhere.

The inside jokes weren't jokes anymore. They had become stories. Nobody brought up the bad names or the bad times. And nobody felt sad as long as we could postpone tomorrow with more nostalgia.

I just hope I remember to tell my kids that they are as happy as I look in my old photographs. And I hope that they believe me.

I was looking at the photographs and I started thinking that there was a time when these weren't memories.

Old pictures look very rugged and young, and the people in the photographs always seem a lot happier than you are.

I remembered this one time that I never told anybody about. The time we were walking. Just the three of us. I was in the middle. I don't remember where we were walking to or where we were walking from. I just remember the season. I just remember walking between them and feeling for the first time that I belonged somewhere

Maybe these are my glory days, and I'm not ever realizing it because they involve a ball.

As I was walking up the stairs to dad's old room, and I was looking at the photographs, I started thinking that there was a time when these weren't memories. That someone actually took the photograph, and the people in the photograph had just eaten lunch or something.

no more pencils, no more books, no more teachers' dirty looks, when the teacher rings the bell, drop your books and run like hell

Las cosas cambian. Y los amigos se van. Y la vida no se detiene para nadie.

I just listened to the music, and breathed in the day, and remembered things. Things like walking around the neighborhood and looking at the houses and the lawns and the colorful trees and having that be enough.

there was a time when these weren't memories.

When we were all getting ready to leave, I walked up to my grandfather and gave him a hug and kiss on the cheek. He wiped my lip print off with his palm and gave me a look. He doesn't like the boys in the family to touch him. But I'm very glad that I did it anyway in case he dies. I never got to do that with my Aunt Helen.

There were other stories and other names. Second Base Stace, who had breasts in fourth grade and let some of the boys feel them. Vincent, who took acid and tried to flush a sofa down the toilet. Sheila, who allegedly masturbated with a hot dog and had to go to the emergency room. The list went on and on.

The inside jokes weren't jokes anymore. they had become stories

We were just there together. And that was enough.

But in that moment when my brother took the field, all that washed away, and everyone was proud... I looked up at my dad, and he was smiling. I looked at my mom, and she was smiling even though she was nervous about my brother getting hurt, which was strange because it was a VCR tape of an old game, and she knew he didn't get hurt.

My grandma is very old, and she doesn't remember things a lot, but she bakes the most delicious cookies. When I was very little, we had my mom's mom, who always had candy, and my dad's mom,who always had cookies. My mom told me that when I was little, I called them Candy Grandma and Cookies Grandma. I also called pizza crust pizza bones. I don't know why I'm telling you this.

And I know that my aunt Helen would still be alive today if she just bought me one present like everybody else. She would be alive if I were born on a day that didn't snow. I would do anything to make this go away. I miss her terribly. I have to stop writing now because I am too sad. Love always, Charlie

I know this will all be stories someday and our pictures will become old photographs. We all become somebody's mom or dad. But right now these moments are not stories. This is happening.

I drove home listening to some of the songs we listened to those times when we were infinite.

Old pictures look very rugged and young, and the people in the photographs always seem a lot happier than you are... I just hope I remember to tell my kids that they are as happy as I look in my old photographs. And I hope that they believe me.

Time goes. Friends leave. And life doesn't stop for anybody.