April 7, 2005
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brendaclews wrote something today which I don’t understand. I didn’t understand when she wrote it, and I don’t understand why I am not writing about Seattle; why I’m wanting to tuck the memories away. I’m afraid something will be lost in the wait.
I have never been one for cameras. And neither was my husband so our children’s growth, rather than being videotaped, was captured, sporadically, at births, birthday parties, and first days of school. Once they were old enough for their own cameras they took lots of pictures. Over the years I have accumulated albums-full, all over at Henry’s. I took only the pictures I’d framed.
I find my most precious memories come to me for no reason. In an instant, in a flash, I am transported to watching the sun rise, on LSD. I’ll suddenly remember the smell of those sweet peas they grew up the side of their restaurant down by the bay in Wheeler. I can smell the incense as I recall sitting in my Sunday best, a stranger in a church, weeping over the beauty of the stained-glass windows and choir. In Seattle, I was taken back to the night Marcie and I, with some of her friends, jumped in a cab and went racing through the city. My head thrust out the window, hair flying on a hot New York night; it was freedom. We have lots of pictures of that trip, but the thrill of the ride was my most precious memory.
I have done some crazy things over the years but the older I get the gladder I am. Because it’s those memories that make writing easier. And it will be those memories that make my golden years a blessing. There are so many things to learn and do and I want to cram them all in. But suddenly, writing about them –It feels like it might take the magic away.
Comments (8)
come on Pru…it is called sharing
sharing what you choose….not all…nut a little piece of you
I *smile*
lol….not nut….BUT…
I am so silly these days
I don’t think writing about them will take the magic away. The magic is in the memories. The writing is for sharing the magic.
it’s ok if you don’t want to write about them. don’t force it or the magic will go away!
It’s so true, what we remember years later is *never* what we *think* we will at the time! It’s always something off to the side, quiet, a simple and profound unfolding of something that wasn’t centre stage at the time – and such images are blazoned on my mind, for instance, the way the blueness and brightness of the sky seemed to fall into my baby son’s eyes when I was sitting in the back seat looking after him in his baby seat while my husband drove us somewhere or other… Sometimes writing of a trip or an experience takes the colour out of it, it sags with the weight of the telling, loses its lustre; letting it be, suddenly like a new Spring bloom an image, a memory pops up later in some other reminiscence… I *honour* the way you are honouring your muse. xo
Oh, a short answer at my site on with)holding… don’t think I intentionally was… but you raise a much bigger question that is probably true in a larger context. But, then, with your often such clear insight, you do things like that. xo
i always kept my journal. now, edging into “golden years”sideways and with great resistance that will ultimately do no good at all, i find myself returning to the journals over and over and over again. and now i write. but without them i would be without the telling details, the little vignettes, the occasional epiphony from so long ago, because, in truth, i’ve forgotten a lot of them. so, it’s not always easy to balance out honoring the muse and making certain that the event is somehow there for you to come back to when you are 62, or 85.
in any event, peace,
lily
oh, I think writing about those memories ensures the magic will never go away- it’s icing that keeps the flavor strong.
I think the main thing to keep in mind is that you must stay true to YOUR process. And that process may not be like MY process– but that doesn’t make EITHER one “wrong.” Personally, I grab snippets out of the eternal fog of swirling memories, and use the written word to crystallize things that come to me as little more than a vague echo. That works… for ME. The magic doesn’t go away in the telling, in fact, it get’s better. But that’s what works, for ME. Only YOU can know your own process…. hope that made sense!