It’s funny the way memory works. The way images and feelings are tucked away safely in little pockets of the mind, and often forgotten until the right combination of music or smells or words brings them out once again.
I hadn’t thought much about the summer weeks we used to spend at my grandparents’ house in the country, until I read Stefani’s post tonight. And then I couldn’t stop thinking about them.
My mind is aflutter with remembrances of the ice cream sodas my grandfather used to make, and of drinking them on a dark summer night, each of us in our own rocking chair on the screened in front porch. The house was nestled on the side of a steep hill overlooking the main street into town, and we would watch the cars go by on the street below, drink our sodas and stay up late. There was a yellow light bulb on the porch. At least, I think there was. It seems an odd thing now, but I am fairly sure it existed. When I think of those nights, they are bathed in yellow light.
And there are crickets chirping, much as there are crickets chirping outside my window right now, at two o’clock in the morning.
I tried to fall asleep an hour ago, but my mind is active with happy thoughts of grandparents and cousins, and three generations playing UNO around a big dining room table. I’ve had too much caffeine and it’s enabled me to hatch one daft plan after another, with the aim of recreating those special summer family memories for a new generation. I am sad for my sons that they don’t have their own yellow porch lights and ice cream sodas, and I’m consumed suddenly with a desire to fill their childhoods with large family get-togethers.
Thing is, I don’t need to plan these events right now, at two o’clock in the morning, do I?
No, I really don’t. And I hope that by writing this down, I have given my mind permission to let it go for the time being, and to settle in for the night, secure in the knowledge that everything I need to remember is written down right here, ready to be revisited at a later time. Preferably long after the sun has come up.
If I could, I’d illustrate this post with snapshots from my memory. I see them clear as day, and yet, they’re so utterly impossible to share.