Not-So-Faded Memories...

So, Liz started this—telling you about our five most memorable days, but how I wish she hadn’t disqualified the Pollyannaville days because then this exercise would be a piece o’ cake. I’d tell you about the day Husband and I tied the knot—the entire affair from my dress to flowers to his new shirt and pants to the dinner afterward cost us a whopping $88.36 way back in 1973. And of course the day we found out Son was on his way and the day he arrived were also glorious. Son’s wedding and the arrival of our precious Grandboy count as red-letter days for me. September 11, 2001 was, certainly, a day that changed every American’s life, and frankly, I’m not going to include publishing my novels this time because those go without saying. I’ll put more thought into this because Liz did and this is her writing prompt and it’s only fair for me to do it correctly.

So, in chronological order, here we go:

1. September 6, 1966. My first day in junior high school. It was seventh grade, I wore a beautiful flowered voile dress that wasn’t one of my older sister’s dresses cut down for me—it was all mine, nylon stockings, and white ballet flats, and for the first time in my nearly thirteen years, I felt like a young lady instead of little kid. And when Timmy Halligan (a ninth grader!) flashed me a smile and said, “Well, hello there,” the girly girl in me awakened. 

2. May 5, 1975. I was taken hostage during a robbery at the bank branch where I was working. In that moment, I realized that there were evil people in the world who didn’t give a single damn about the value my life. To the man who held me at gunpoint, I was nothing more than a shield to protect him from the policemen waiting outside the bank. He used me to save his own life. Mine was expendable. My memories of that almost thirty minutes are clear pictures in my head. But although the car I was shoved into had nearly 72 bullet holes in it and the robbers and the police shot into and out of the bank, I don’t remember hearing a single shot fired. Not one bullet hit any of us three hostages, grace that I credit to the angels who had their wings around us that day.

3. March 23, 1988. The day my mother died. I wasn’t prepared to lose my mother so young—who is? It wasn’t just that I was devastated, it was that suddenly it really, truly was time to be grownup. 

4. July 7, 1996. I got my first client as freelancer—IDG Books. I’d papered the freelance coordinator’s office walls with my resume and bugged the socks off her to allow me to test for her. When she finally said, “okay, come in and take a test, but be aware that it’s not an easy test,” I almost threw up after I hung up the phone. But I took the test, passed with flying colors, and she gave me my first job that very day—Law For Dummies. I still have that book (with my name in it as proofreader!) in my bookcase along with a copy of the invoice I sent them.

5. June 7, 2009. Paris. I will never, ever forget standing in front of Hotel des Invalides in the misty rain and throwing out my arms to embrace the City of Lights. Poor Son must have heard at least sixty times that week, “We’re in Paris!” My dream since I was ten years old had finally come true! 

There’s my list—and yeah, perhaps reflective of a life that is kinda small in the greater scheme of things, but I’m hoping to add lots more memorable days to it. How about you? Tell us your five most memorable days.