Oftentimes, when Kristian and I are falling asleep, I ask him to “tell me a story.” I suppose that all of the Freudian analysts out there would say that I’m reverting to a childhood state in asking for a bedtime story because my mommy didn’t love me and I had a thing for my childhood babysitter and blahblahblahblah. Well, you can all suck it. I have to listen to my own thoughts all day long. Sometimes I just want to hear someone else’s as I’m falling asleep.
Last night I asked Kristian to tell me a couple of his happiest memories. I then bitch slapped him for not immediately responding with “the day I met you, of course.” Just kidding, I only punched him a little.
I’m not going to share Kristian’s stories (not just because he’s reading over my shoulder and would probably thwack me with the remote), but I will share mine. If, you know, I could narrow it down. It is truly a lucky person who has difficulty thinking of a happy moment because they all blend together in a big mushy pile of saccharine-y goodness. I guess I’ll try…
The first memory that came to my mind was a motorcycle ride in Nepal. My host uncle decided to give me a break from the city, so he took me up into the mountains to enjoy the view. Riding on the back of a motorcycle on a highway in a third world country is a completely insane experience. One the one hand, there was this sense of complete freedom to be out of the city (Kathmandu) and out in the open. We weren’t vying for space on the road with cows and people carrying goats on the back of their motorcycles (you might think that I’m exaggerating, but it was not an uncommon sight). On the other hand, it was totally terrifying to be flying down the road at 40 miles an hour on the back of a motorcycle wearing a helmet that was made in a country where you can’t even drink the soda, because their bottling methods are so suspect.
I like to think that all of that extra adrenaline just made the sun on the back of my neck feel that much nicer.
I made Kristian tell me a “Hope” related story, so I suppose that I should tell one about him as well. I threatened to say some mean things about him to the internet because he is currently tempting me by eating key lime cheesecake next to me on the couch. But, he also made dinner. Plus, I kindof love the guy. So, I’ll play nice.
My memories of Kristian are like my regular memories. They’re greatly enhanced by the fact that there are so many wonderful ones, you feel like you could just wrap yourself up in a big ol’ fluffy ball of happy. And then you kindof want to slap yourself in the face for saying “big ol’ fluffy ball of happy.” And then you realize that you are kindof making yourself throw up a little. I’ll be back tomorrow with a real story.
In the meantime, anyone out there have their own happy memories that they’d like to share?
Hi Hope! You have a new blog reader! 😉
I’m like you, it’s hard to think of a happy memory, because my memories are all just a big fluffy ball o’happy. I have warm memories of games with my brother as a kid, and times with friends in college. One that stands out to me now was when my now-husband and I started dating. We were heading home from a night out and John Mayer’s “3×5” was playing and I remember being just overwhelmed with Teh Happy. It still makes me happy to hear it, but honestly, I don’t know what made that moment so special… Guess it was just the company 😉