Tuesday, August 27, 2013

snapshots

Sometimes there are trigger points in life;  a piece of music, a photograph, even a voice or a picture where someone WASN'T;  and you suddenly come up against a memory.   Not necessarily what the trigger invoked, but the strongest version of it.    Once that happens, the cellar door flies open and all the other peripherals flood out,  chattering and leaving muddy footprints on the good carpet. .

Usually the only way through it is through it;.  face the ache in the gut,  the river of what if and if only that flows behind your eyes,  and let it go again.  On the plus side, if you look at this stuff from all angles often you gain a new understanding (being all that much older and stuffed full of wisdom) of what happened, and why,  and can convince yourself that it was all for the best.


Well, two out of three isnt bad.

2 comments:

  1. When I smell four o clocks, I think of my Grandmother who loved those flowers. When I look into a mirror, I think of my dad, I look more like him every day.

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  2. its funny, sometimes, how a simple snapshot can summon up the day, the year, the weather. I have one of my birthmother, taken (obviously on a Sunday because in the city in those days you Dressed Up and stayed Dressed Up all day) on a hot summer day, I can feel the heat coming up from the pavement, I can smell the perfume she wore, and the hat, my god her famous hat, that she recovered to suit what she was wearing, even to my wedding 13 years later...

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