A Few and Far Between: Writing About the Rare Moments That Stay With Us
DRAFTLIFE WRITING@ WORDHOUSE
Many of the memories that insist on being written are not the ones born from ordinary routines. They are the few and far between moments that occurred only once or twice, yet they return with remarkable clarity. As I grow older, I realize that writing a memoir is not simply an act of remembering but of recognizing the significance of rare conversations, unexpected reunions, and fleeting encounters that shaped the course of my life in ways I understood only much later. By returning to them with intention, I begin to see why they have remained so present in my memory and why they continue to ask to be written.
A Few and Far Between: Writing About the Rare Moments That Stay With Us
Recently, my brother and I exchanged messages, and our texts gradually turned emotional and deeply personal. Moments like this happen only once in a long while. As children, we slept side by side on a long, woven mat, but as we grew older, distance and career choices pulled us apart until we had become strangers. As our conversation about a family concern deepened, I found myself going back to our childhood, when our mother was still alive and our lives naturally intersected each day. Even then, the conversations that deepened our bond were few and far between; today, they occur almost by serendipity.
The expression few and far between describes events separated by long stretches of time. Visits from old friends, family reunions, unexpected encounters, or heartfelt conversations between siblings become increasingly precious as we grow older. Time grows shorter, while memory stretches across longer distances. That is why these moments ask to be written. They return so vividly in memory that we forget how rarely they actually occurred. Writing helps us name these uncommon moments, returning to them with intention until we better understand the conversations and connections that quietly shaped our lives.
When Family Conversations Reach the Heart
Our conversation moved beyond ordinary updates. We spoke about the maintenance medicines we now take, our children's new jobs, and the familiar concerns surrounding another sibling. At first, we were careful not to reopen old wounds or burden one another with hidden pain. But as the exchange continued, our guarded words slowly gave way, allowing long-buried thoughts and vulnerabilities to resurface.
Then, unexpectedly, my brother shared something I had never known before. The small screen, with its limited space for words, seemed to expand, allowing our hearts to speak more freely. Moments like this cannot be forced. They arrive almost like grace, when we least expect them yet have quietly longed for them all along. They are few and far between, but when they come, they remind me that time may separate us, yet genuine conversation can still restore the bonds that have patiently waited beneath the silence.
Why I Want to Remember Before I Write
I find myself wondering why I remember these conversations more vividly than the many ordinary exchanges that filled everyday life. Because they were never routine, they mattered more deeply. My mind returns to them because a misunderstanding found resolution. A long-held resentment was finally given expression and lost its venom. Through our texting conversation, I discovered my brother anew, knowing him again after years of estrangement.
As I grow older, I realize that memory, as a keeper of meaning, preserves the moments that changed us while allowing countless ordinary days to fade. These rare conversations ask to be written because, by naming them, I begin to understand why those few and far between occasions were enough to make life, if only for a moment, become clearer.
Naming the Moments That Remain
So writing a memoir is not simply recording the past. I am learning that, in writing a life—my life—I need to name the experiences that keep returning to memory, even though they happened only once or twice. That rare conversation with my brother, an afternoon with an elementary school friend, praying over an elderly aunt during a rare visit before she passed away, or an unexpected reunion with college peers all become worth writing because those few and far between moments revealed something new.
To imagine those moments in writing is to recall not only the pleasant details, but also to uphold what was difficult to say, name the unspoken, and define the wisdom gained. Memoir is not simply describing what occurred, but understanding how those moments shaped another person and me with greater compassion.
As a senior citizen, I find myself recalling the few and far between moments that revealed who our family truly was and how love sometimes speaks most clearly during its rarest conversations. By naming them, I also come to understand why they persist in my memory and remain ever-present in my thoughts.
