Memory vs. Reality

My sister and I had a cool experience last weekend; we were invited to a retirement/birthday/goodbye party of a family friend, whom we'd fallen out of touch with decades ago. I'd last seen their daughter, who'd been my friend from preschool to Grade 2, about 22 years ago. Her brother and my sister were ages with each other, but her memories were faint, having been only 3 or 4 when last we'd all met. Funnily enough, the moment we walk into the restaurant, I immediately managed to pick out Jen and Kerry recognised Paul.

But before I could register my amazement of the durability of memory, I was re-introduced to our old babysitter. In my head, the 3-year's old image of Mrs B was of a scary, 18 foot tall matron with a wooden spoon as big as my arm in her hand for paddling us.

27 years later, she's old and gray and barely 5 foot tall. The spoon has long since been retired, but I'm pretty sure she could still whup me...