Tags
free write, light, memories, musings, shadows, what we forget
Black. I don’t wear black. Well, when I was 10, I remember I lived in a favourite black sweater for a year… I don’t wear colour. Shades, soft billowy there but not. Like memories. Hidden, buried, forgotten sometimes. Involves tripping up attic steps, creaking open a door, breathing in a lungful of dust. Dust. Covering everything. Floor. Shelves. Trunks. Great Somebody’s Or Other’s ugly lamp. Sunlight can’t creep in through dirty window. Yank open, take gasps of crisp, “decaying leaves” scented air.
Other times…memory waits to trip one at the door…or muses in a desk drawer. Memories. I sit here thinking…its funny what our mind remembers. The moments that are stored away without us knowing. Its funny too what we don’t remember. Or try not to.
I remember…warm milk with rice and sugar at Grandma’s. All the many little houses she moved in and out of when I was little. I remember…racing down the hill in our backyard in the wagon (miraculously no injuries came of it). And building fairy houses. I remember that afternoon when it poured rain and my sister and I ran out in our pyjamas to dance in it. I remember…glimpses too. Small moments that I can’t quite place.
I don’t wear black. But I play melancholy piano music.
And I light candles when there is no light.
You. Memories. Remember. Too.
There is something really beautiful and sad you captured in this one.
Thank you…I seem to be drawn to all things beautifully sad lately.
Today I woke up at dawn, went out to the balcony to bring out my bike. You know those sliding screen door? Hearing it slide and shut at dawn….. The mere sound fills me with memories – not visual but emotional memories, because I don’t know where these recollective feelings are coming from, but i feel it anyway.
Lovely image, June. I know exactly what you mean. A simple sound or smell can bring bits and pieces rushing back, but sometimes you do not know from where they came.
It’s funny the things we remember, how our perceptions are different from siblings. Recently a sister was describing a house we lived in long ago. My viewpoint was different and perhaps a little more detailed.
I enjoyed seeing things from your eyes. Thank you for sharing.
It is also funny how our perceptions shift with time, often becoming blurred or falsely vivid. I appreciate your comment.
Lovely imagery. Words that weave an illusive mystery. Haunting.
Thank you, Jacqui. Paradoxes are intriguing things…how something can be both beautiful and haunting. Or beautifully sad.
Beautiful. And I agree with Jacqui…haunting.
Thank you Lisa! It’s always lovely to see your face around here : )
Yes, I can smell the images you share and they too bring up my own memories. Thank you, I enjoyed this piece very much and that is the point, that it touches and emotes.
I can trust that I am doing my job as a writer when readers say such things. Thank you, Patricia : )
memories. beautiful…
Thanks, Dee. Memories are beautiful, intangible beings.
I loved how readily available the emotions of this piece were. It was as though they were trickling down the side of a cliff, like a waterfall, and growing closer with each line. By the end you could practically taste how you felt.
Great effect and great work, as always.
Thank you…words can be such a powerful tool : )
‘memory waits to trip one at the door…or muses in a desk drawer’
wonderful use of language to beautifully capture how we remember
Thank you very much.
The way you capture atmosphere is ridiculously vivid and beautiful. Such power and charm.
Nik, you always write the kindest comments. I really appreciate your words – they further inspire me to write, write, write.