A perfect example would be last Sunday. I took my car to car wash, inserted my quarters, finished off with spot-free rinse and headed back to my driveway to what would continue on to be 3 more hours of car-laboring love.
I roll down the windows, blare some of my favorite tunes, and start at the rims and make my way up. Who knows if that's the correct order, but it's my order. From there I waxed, buffed, polished, and moisturized every inch of that little car of mine.
During that time I reminisced about when Michael and I would wash the car together. From deciding who got to use the sprayer to who got the change. I smiled quietly that Sunday afternoon of memories passed. The simple ones, the ones that were ignited from me buffing a large chunk of metal or the others that float up when checking out at the grocery store. They have no magnificent tale behind them or message of any kind, they simply are my memories being brought to life by my present actions.