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.
The Johnson Girls
2 days ago