“That time” carries a whiff of “those days.”

There’s something about “remember that time we all went to the beach and got drunk on Kelly’s sister’s moonshine?” that sounds a bit too close to those were the days…

Narrator’s note: Those indeed were not the days. Moonshine is like drinking molten lava with a distinctly unpleasant aftertaste. Apologies to my moonshine aficionados.

And now I realize a fair number of people who read my blog might have zero reference point on moonshine, a sentence I could have truthfully uttered up to a decade ago. I’d somehow managed to escape a mandatory taste testing situation for a solid fifteen years in North Carolina only to be taken down on some random beach outing with the neighbors.

But I digress. Pretty far off the mark, too.

Remember that time we drove twelve hours straight from St. Louis to North Carolina? Murderous tendencies lurk close to the surface once I hit hour six in a car…

How about that time I agreed to a mother-son camping experience that required I not only put up a tent but then sleep in the great out-of-doors for the whole entire night. It was an experience, that’s for sure.

I have a fair number of funny, touching, kind, or sweet “that time” memories. I’ve also collected a number of shocking, terrifying, or outright bizarre ones. I guess that’s what comes with the privilege of getting older.

Linda hosts Stream of Consciousness Saturday. This week’s prompt is “that time.” Use it any way you’d like. Enjoy!