I can't say I have any particular unexplained memories. Mixed-up ones like some friends have mentioned--things that you believe happened but that no one else remembers. But those are not memories in the way I think of as "unexplained," that is, that you just don't know why you remember them. Still when you are in your 60s you have been through so many experiences, most of which you DON'T call back from whatever brain cell they are stored in, that you wonder why certain experiences stay with you so strongly.
It's understandable the memory would stay though if there were strong emotions attached. For example, the early morning that the telephone rang saying that my mother had taken a turn for the worse. Sixteen year old me struggling to get dressed while my dad tried to convince me not to come with him. And then the call that came again as we were just about to leave that we needn't rush, she had died. Me, sitting on the couch, screaming silently in my head "Mom, mom, say something to me! Say goodbye, please!" And there was nothing.
Fast forward thirty years and I am working at a library in Washington State, shelving books. And I suddenly have a strong feeling to call back to Ottawa to find out my father is. He'd been in hospital and had been in a very bad way. But I had spoken to my stepmother the day before and she said he was recovering. I called the hospital and the nurse said "Oh is this Mr. Campbell's daughter? I am so terribly sorry." I said, "Is he dead then?", and she stammered "Oh, did you not know?" I clocked out at the library and got into my car to drive home and all of a sudden Dad's voice came into my head. "I am going now but I want you to know how very much I love you." And with tears streaming down my face, I said aloud "And I love you too, Dad." So finally I got my good-bye.
I do have an unexplained deep love for the United Kingdom that sometimes makes me think I lived there at some time. Or maybe it is my ancestors' DNA in my veins. Or perhaps it was all of the British movies I watched when I was a child--the wartime films and later Mary Poppins, My Fair Lady. Or the Harlequin Romances. Whatever it is--or probably a combination of everything--the very first time I visited it was like coming home. I would walk down streets and feel like I had walked them before. And every time I go back, I feel the same. I did have the chance to live there for three years and loved it. I feel in my bones that I need to go back soon.
It's understandable the memory would stay though if there were strong emotions attached. For example, the early morning that the telephone rang saying that my mother had taken a turn for the worse. Sixteen year old me struggling to get dressed while my dad tried to convince me not to come with him. And then the call that came again as we were just about to leave that we needn't rush, she had died. Me, sitting on the couch, screaming silently in my head "Mom, mom, say something to me! Say goodbye, please!" And there was nothing.
Fast forward thirty years and I am working at a library in Washington State, shelving books. And I suddenly have a strong feeling to call back to Ottawa to find out my father is. He'd been in hospital and had been in a very bad way. But I had spoken to my stepmother the day before and she said he was recovering. I called the hospital and the nurse said "Oh is this Mr. Campbell's daughter? I am so terribly sorry." I said, "Is he dead then?", and she stammered "Oh, did you not know?" I clocked out at the library and got into my car to drive home and all of a sudden Dad's voice came into my head. "I am going now but I want you to know how very much I love you." And with tears streaming down my face, I said aloud "And I love you too, Dad." So finally I got my good-bye.
I do have an unexplained deep love for the United Kingdom that sometimes makes me think I lived there at some time. Or maybe it is my ancestors' DNA in my veins. Or perhaps it was all of the British movies I watched when I was a child--the wartime films and later Mary Poppins, My Fair Lady. Or the Harlequin Romances. Whatever it is--or probably a combination of everything--the very first time I visited it was like coming home. I would walk down streets and feel like I had walked them before. And every time I go back, I feel the same. I did have the chance to live there for three years and loved it. I feel in my bones that I need to go back soon.
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