“A retentive memory may be a good thing, but the ability to forget is the true token of greatness.” Elbert Hubbard
Memory is a funny thing… We could be sitting on the porch sipping a summer drink or even an aperitif, when suddenly, a memory of an event, a singular, seemingly irrelevant conversation would flash by. Then there are those sweeping, gushing, heart-wrenching memories that come like a deluge; flooding our hearts and minds with painful emotions and exaggerated recapitulations of old stories; wounds that would be best to forget. When I think of my earliest memories, the sun and things we do under the sun weigh in quite heavily. I remember playing hide and seek in the blazing sun with childhood friends. The rule was that the tagged person would gaze at the sun and make a wish… Of course, temporary blindness and blue/green/red spots were a common result of all that sun gazing.
“A strange thing is memory, and hope; one looks backward, and the other forward; one is of today, the other of tomorrow. Memory is history recorded in our brain, memory is a painter, it paints pictures of the past and of the day.” Anna Mary Robertson Moses
Against the sky the willow spreads a fan
The silk’s torn off.
Maybe it’s better I did not become
Your wife. Contd below
Another memory that still holds sway in my life is of a particular red door; both one I imagined and dreamt of, and one I saw on a beautiful white colonial home way back in my childhood. For some reason, call it deja vu, whenever I would dream, recall, or pass by a red door of the shine and hue in my mind’s eye, an old and distant memory would surface… It was often wistful; a lingering feeling of love and warmth that in real life made no sense. You see, I don’t recall ever living in a home with a magnificent glossy red door with an ornate brass handle, stained glass cut outs in the upper section and a peephole to boot. More below!