They say you can’t go home again.
They say the past is past.
They say it’s all water under the bridge.
They say time and tides stop for no man.
I say, “Hah!”
Anyone who so easily dismisses the past must never have heard a favorite song from her teen-hood and instantly been transported back to that first love.
Or eaten a Peep and had a sudden urge to color Easter eggs.
Or sniffed a Christmas tree lot and relived the year she and her brother got matching cowgirl and cowboy outfits and for the next six months spent every spare moment riding the backyard range on sawhorses.
Or been on the receiving end of an extra special, who-could-have-imagined-it, surprise like the one a new friend popped by with not long ago.
You know how our family lost our house and everything we owned in a house fire? Well, this friend heard about it. She also discovered that we’d had Desert Rose pottery. A set like the one she had stored in her attic.
So she and her husband came by, and just look at the fabulous gift they gave me!
With that single generous gesture, my new friend led me home again.
Every time I take out a plate or pour a cup of tea from the teapot, past becomes present.
All that water isn’t under the bridge. It’s simply settled into a still pool of memories.
Time and tides may not stop for me, but the past has taken on a new presence. And I love it!
“Memory is history recorded in our brain, memory is a painter, it paints pictures of the past and of the day.”
Anna Mary Robertson “Grandma” Moses