Bookmarks

I have about 50 websites on my bookmarks list, and of those 50 I use three of them on a regular basis. Sometimes I'll get in a cyber cleaning mood and delete a few, but mostly they remain there, in the spirit of, "I'd better not throw that out, I might need it someday," the same spirit that keeps the drawers and tables in my house stuffed and stacked with envelopes and random scraps of paper.
Really, am I going to need the address of a discount shoes website where I saved the page describing a pair of winter boots I was going to buy for my son two years ago? He doesn't even wear that size anymore, for crying out loud.
And do I really need to relocate six websites offering moneysaving tips for tightwads? Finding a tip I didn't already know about would be as likely as finding a diamond ring in my morning bowl of Special K.
I've also got the addresses of several bloggers, most of them smartass women like me. But the only bloggers I follow with any regularity are my friends Cori and Kathy and authors Rona Maynard and Elizabeth Berg, and I could find their sites with my eyes closed.
As for the sites listing Crock Pot recipes, vegetarian recipes, cheap recipes and cheap vegetarian Crock Pot recipes, I can find all of those and more in seconds courtesy of Google.
And those 10-odd Phil Collins listings... I think I'll hang onto those for awhile. It's like a scrapbook I like to leaf through on occasion. Although I'm too old and too mature to keep a scrapbook on my favorite singer. A list of websites is much more dignified. Don't say a word, please. Let me hang onto my illusions.
What I need is a bookmark list for my brain. I'd love to have a file list of favorite memories that I could roll out at any time. Not the big ones; those have a permanent spot in my heart and mind. It's the little, ordinary days I want to recapture. Like the summer day Ron and I took the kids to Little Presque Isle, when the sun was hot and the water was bathtub warm. Ron and I spent the day jumping in the waves with the kids and lying on our blanket under the sun, watching them play.
So many small special moments get lost in the shuffle of daily life. We swear we'll remember, but the moments get crowded out by flat tires, doctor bills and grocery store runs.
I want to remember every single night I read bedtime stories to Jess, then Jess and Dan, then Jess, Dan and Melissa. I want to bookmark every one of those nights. And the bathtimes, trips to the park, all the Friday nights we piled blankets and pillows on the floor and hunkered down to watch "Dinosaurs" and "Family Matters."
It's ironic that with a single click we can save the location of a website on the mating habits of tse tse flies, but there's no way to save the moments we treasures as they happened and would love to treasure again... if only we could find them.