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i have flashes of memory. while i'm sewing. while i'm driving. while i'm walking edgar. while i'm falling asleep at night. quick flashes of a person. or a house i have loved. a kitchen. or a street, a street in paris. of a wall, a painting. many different cities and the energy and vitality they are engorged with. a sound. a face. a song. a smell. a conversation, or just a piece of it. a car, a journey. and so often there are faces with smiles. or just people going about their business without noticing me. there are restaurants. classrooms. shoes i loved and how i felt with them on my feet. studios i've filled with my work. and when these memories arrive, they overflow in me. and i realized the other day that this wash of memory, when it happens to my parents, brings about an era so very far from our current reality but still a very real part of theirs. or when it happened to my grandparents, they would be taken to a time before cars. before electricity or plumbing. when photographs were precious. and meals were made, not purchased. when there was no radio, no television. my grandfather died 4 1/2 years ago when he was 105. and he lived in his memory most of the time in his last years. it is a powerful gift, our little visions of the past. tiny pieces of our lives. 
i have flashes of memory. while i'm sewing. while i'm driving. while i'm walking edgar. while i'm falling asleep at night. quick flashes of a person. or a house i have loved. a kitchen. or a street, a street in paris. of a wall, a painting. many different cities and the energy and vitality they are engorged with. a sound. a face. a song. a smell. a conversation, or just a piece of it. a car, a journey. and so often there are faces with smiles. or just people going about their business without noticing me. there are restaurants. classrooms. shoes i loved and how i felt with them on my feet. studios i've filled with my work. and when these memories arrive, they overflow in me. and i realized the other day that this wash of memory, when it happens to my parents, brings about an era so very far from our current reality but still a very real part of theirs. or when it happened to my grandparents, they would be taken to a time before cars. before electricity or plumbing. when photographs were precious. and meals were made, not purchased. when there was no radio, no television. my grandfather died 4 1/2 years ago when he was 105. and he lived in his memory most of the time in his last years. it is a powerful gift, our little visions of the past. tiny pieces of our lives. 
Oh my-you write so beautifully--like music with words. You put words to feelings like a poet.
ReplyDeleteHow wonderful that your grandfather lived to be 105!
There's a marvelous cadence happening here. I've not thought of memory as such a blessing as what you point out. But I see that it's true. I very much enjoy my visits here. I want the world to find you.
ReplyDeletethank you both for saying such lovely things. i have alot of quiet as i sew, to think and be visited by memory. but it doesn't need to be quiet really. it just happens.
ReplyDeletedear Annette, i'm glad you found me so i could find you :) i have been browsing your blog enjoying your beautiful work, pictures and writings. You live in a very beautiful house, i love porches (we don't have them in Belgium).
ReplyDeletei know i am going to enjoy my visits here and that makes me happy, xx
aobut plethora... your plethora of memories, feelings, talent, words, make me feel blessed; being able, through all this distance, to call you my friend : )
ReplyDeletebeautiful words! thanks for sharing
ReplyDeletexx
Truly beautiful and moved me to tears.
ReplyDeleterenilde...welcome and i'm glad you're here. i still love belgium, even without porches!! haha
ReplyDeletedemie....the privilege is mine!
petra....thanks for stopping in
glenda steel....welcome. i hope i don't make you cry too much. but sometimes it's nice to well up with emotion.