We walked everywhere as kids. Mom didn’t drive so our options were limited. We walked up and down the busy at times streets. Cars whizzed by. The blaring sirens of firetrucks and ambulances. The familiar thud as car tires ran over a dipped manhole cover. I don’t remember why we were in Wescott. There was no bus route or a friend’s house to visit. Then I discovered a bakery. I could smell the fresh loaves of bread long before we crossed the threshold. My stomach growled, wanting to gobble the aroma that danced and swirled around my nostrils. Did we go in? Did we buy a prized loaf? I don’t remember eating the fresh bread, just the aromas lingering as we walked by. A secret bakery, no longer hidden from our path. Sweet, fresh, warm, beckoning us all inside for a bit a reprieve from the walking, how our legs would sometimes ache. And our stomachs’ noise matched our longing. A childhood memory, forever etched in my mind of a long gone bakery of decades past.
Tag: memory
Just us
The evening sky is now pitch black. It is hard to see much around me. I arrive with my friends, Josh and Sue. We are at the local elementary school playground. There is sandy grass beneath our feet. It is just us at this time of night. We feel free to play. At the cusp of adulthood. The tail end of childhood. The freedom to yell and shout. The freedom to play without care or worry. We laugh and joke. Our spirits are high. And so are we. I don’t know who started the idea of spinning like a dervish dancer. Spin and spin. The world is a blur of streetlights swirled into darkness. And then we start to run in our dizzy haze. And we laugh and laugh. Because, try as we might, to run in a straight line, our bodies run in zigzags, haphazard, and sideways. And it makes us laugh. How out of control our bodies can be when we are dizzy and high. And having a grand time. There’s not much to do when you’re young and broke. To entertain ourselves in this small town. The cops don’t bother us. We are not encumbered In knowing what the future brings. The lines and plans we make are never straight and linear. Try as we might to head for a target, We veer off course and into unintended directions. Destinations uncharted, and that is thrilling. The surprise. How our bodies seem to have a mind of its own. And we’re just along for the ride. Almost surrendering to forces we can’t control. The world stops spinning for a moment All is still and dark once more. It’s quiet. Our bellies hurt from the laughter. Now in the past a distant memory of a silly circumstance.
The coolness of night
The coolness of night Blankets the earth while I slumber. It sparkles with life When it bathes in the morning light. How did it get there? Where dreamers dream It took a rest Leaving only its cool mist As evidence in the morning. Soon evaporated and vanished. A distant memory On the tip of your tongue. Unsure if it was real Or just a dream.
Seeds
The doorway opens. Heartbeat to heartbeat Seeds clutched in my hand Waiting to be sowed Not knowing what lies ahead. Seeds are like ideas and words. Some have a way of Flowing into the heart and mind. Germinating into core beliefs, A shared memory or story. Where it originated Sometimes a mystery. Seeds can root into an entire story whose words and thoughts can empower and create growth. Some stories have to be Pruned back to allow in more light And space for new growth to take shape, To embody and take root. It all starts with a little seed. A seed in my heart that germinates into thought, Speech and the written word. Those fruits can then be passed From me to you. An offering from the heart.
Shopping with Mom
I remember our solo shopping trips to K-Mart. It was just for a couple of hours And I was my mom’s shopping buddy, Helping to push the cart and being surrounded by endless options available in the aisles. A girl could get lost for an hour or two Just browsing and dreaming in the toy department. After our shopping was complete, We would go get an Italian grinder to share. It was always a highlight and bittersweet Because it meant our shopping trip was coming to an end. Plus, shopping always gives me an appetite. And not just for the potential goods and wares But the fulfillment that each item promises. I wonder what memories I’m creating today That my children will cherish into their adulthood. We never know what impression will make its mark When we’re living the moment in real-time as it occurs. It’s only in hindsight and reflection That our memories get formed and shaped Later to be accessed again at a future date. To be determined. We never know when a scent, a sound or a view will recall that memory back into focus to embody that time and space once again.
Remember (part 2)
I don’t remember being born or how I came to be. I arrived and here I am. I don’t remember the very early years, So dependent on my mom. Her love, her safety The spaces we occupied. My first memory I remember is when I was two. My siblings and I were playing with a plastic toy house. My uncle blew cigarette smoke through the second-story windows. It was such a delight to see the shape, the form the floating vapors that defied gravity. I remember winters of sledding down the hill in the backyard on my mom’s childhood Flying Arrow sled. The joy and momentum of the downhill slope. I remember our swing set with metal frames and hard plastic seats that brought me to far away places only in my mind. I remember learning to roller skate for the first time. Clinging to the side wall as I found my balance, my courage, and eventually my confidence to skate on my own with grace and speed. There are so many moments that I may not remember. But the ones I do are cherished. And they connect me to my siblings and stand the test of time as they shaped and formed who I am today.
Let the past be the past
The past is the past thankfully and sorrowfully so. We have today's gifts and connections, conversations and hearts to grow. Let go of yesterday's hurts. They cannot touch you here. No matter their lull, their yearning, their harsh or loving memory. Let's make new ones today so that our wells may overflow with a life well-loved and well-lived. Let the past be the past. It cannot touch me here in the now. I know this, yet sometimes need a reminder While ruminating and caught in a memory. To snap back to reality. To be nostalgic is okay. Let's make today a great day.
Remember
Remember the scent of the lilacs. How the air just embodied their aroma and drifted it into the windows into my lungs. Remember when they were teeny tiny buds. How 5-year old Lilly marveled at their small size. Little purple bumps bursting from the green. Remember the Easter lilies and this was the first year I got so low to the ground I could actually smell them for the first time. Remember the towering orange iris. Remember the hearty rosebush. Remember the mimosa tree that once stood proud, colorful and fragrant. Now an empty shell. Bare branches. The weakened trunk sways with a gentle push. Remember the dogwood’s white blossoms and Lilly called the neighbor’s pink blossoms “flower snow” as they fell and covered the ground in small piles of soft pink. Remember the woodpecker, the cardinal, the new birds that decided to stop by for a visit. Remember the bunny rabbit, like Old Faithful, arrives around dinner time looking for her evening meal as well. Remember the hawk perched on top of the playset as a squirrel huddled and hid under the child’s chair unmoving and the hawk ever patient. Remember the blue jays that harassed and chased that hawk away and the squirrel that timidly crawled commando style and lived another day. Remember the sweet breeze from the ocean even reaching here not so close to the shore and how I marveled at the salty refreshing air. Remember the first kiss. The special rock overlooking the bay and our life began together. Remember that tender beginning love is still here under the surface. A beloved memory but always here in my heart.
Healing Insights 