Tag: memories
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‘Oh, how this spring of love resembleth the uncertain glory of an April day which now shows all beauty of the Sun, and by and by a cloud takes all away’
Can we really speak from places where we are not; from times we have visited and then been forced to leave; pretend we still understand how it felt to be young? What truth can memories tell us of our lives…? Do we only remember the sharp edges of things: the significant comings and goings of…
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The Mutable Rank-scented Many
Too much time by myself can be troublesome: I begin to wonder about things that I should have resolved years ago had I bothered to think more about them. Or, perhaps I did, and decided to shelve them while I got on with my life. Retired hands, though, are often bored; they open things the…
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Searching for Muesli
Muesli. There was a time when I didn’t know what it was; maybe nobody did. But then they did, and I was caught unawares. Those were innocent times, to be sure, and yet I suppose I was raised that way: be aware of what’s around you, but don’t poke at it; never disturb anything that…
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Life in the endgame
I guess I’m up for it; I mean things have been working out for me for too long on this trip, and change is always therapeutic, eh? You can’t live forever in a candy store without getting some cavities along the way, I suppose. I was looking forward to this part of the trip at…
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Tis in my memory locked
For some time now, I’ve wondered what makes some places feel like they are a part of me -or more likely, that I am a part of them… And why are some things only superficially appealing, in spite of their evident attempts to mimic authenticity? I suppose we all have different needs, so perhaps generic…
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Wind Phones
There are times when I wonder how much of it I need: Time, I mean. It’s not that I wish to shorten it unduly, just that there are times when it gathers as a storm approaching on the horizon like I used to see as a child living on the prairies. Now, of course, I…
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Seek not for whom the bell tolls
Do you ever put something away for safe-keeping, only to find it has changed in the interval since you last looked? Retirement can be like that: hanging a once comfortable identity in a closet somewhere, and discovering it no longer fits when you try it on for old times’ sake. Not only that, but the…
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Rings and things and fine array
I realize I might be at the wrong end of life to be curious about this; I recognize that even the very existence of my inquisitiveness may attract the attention of those prying ears which are constantly on the prowl for gossip, but I can assure any who have stopped to listen that they are…
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What’s done is done
‘Yesterday, upon the stair, I met a man who wasn’t there.’ -remember that poem? It kind of reminds me of my childhood fantasies of things that might be if I could just wish hard enough. Things that could have been, if only I could remember the details. The distant past has always been like that for…
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