End of Summer

26 September 2007

Do you find when the sun’s reflection dances in a certain way or the wind whooshes and whistles evocatively that you’re unwittingly lured into a faintly familiar memory?

And then for no apparent reason, do you also find tears welling in response to your senses and then your memory being aroused? 

Not tears of sorrow or tears of joy, but tears that spontaneously release in remembrance of something from long ago, something you thought you’d forgotten.

On the cusp of fall, I want to pay homage to the end of summer by acknowledging that over the past few months there were many suggestive moments like this for me. 

There was the noise of an overhead single engine plane on a hot, clear-blue sky day in July that harked back to the sound of motorboats on the bay by Beaty and Frank’s beach cottage.

And then one morning a few weeks ago, I smelled fresh bread lingering on almost visible heat waves outside a bakery.  The sweet, yeasty smell reminiscent of a small bread truck that delivered thrice weekly to the cottage on the bay.

Why this recent reliving of the past in my mind’s eye, I’m not sure.  Most of the time I’m quite content in the present, and even more content, nah, quite happy is more like it, fantasizing about a wonderful future for myself.

Perhaps it’s because I miss Australia, more so summer at the cottage by the beach where, as I already mentioned, bread was delivered.  Oh, and milk, and let me not forget the ice-cream truck, I liked the choc-top vanilla cones the best. 

Between favorite delivered foods and endless days of sun, sand and ocean, it really isn’t any wonder that my memory was stirred to such a degree by recent sights and sounds and smells; I mean I loved the summer holidays of my childhood. 

When I left Australia, I didn’t allow myself time to reminisce, I was too busy living my life trying to forget the events that shaped me. 

I guess I believed that in order to be happy so far from my country the door to the past had to close. 

But eventually one’s memory won’t be silenced. 

In fact, it seems we spend our lives trying to let go of the past only to find that we’re constantly reminded of it, whether in a passing breeze, the dappled light on a window, or the rustling of early fall leaves.

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3 Responses to “End of Summer”

  1. Dazza Says:
    September 27th, 2007 at 6:54 am

    So special!

    For me, I spend my time, often unsuccessfully, trying to let go of the past in the sense that I try not to re-live it, while I tend to embrace and welcome some memories as cherished relics and wish that others would go away forever despite, as you note, their indelible imprint on the present.

    Thanks for all the wonderful memories.


  2. Julie Says:
    September 27th, 2007 at 7:53 am

    Yes, yes, YES! Poignancy is stalking me too. That smell of dried leaves, and the swooshing sound they make as you walk through them…I can just about feel myself inside my 6 year old body, jumping into the piles my dad would make.


  3. cindy Says:
    September 27th, 2007 at 11:07 am

    Nice reflection. I relate very well to a smell or temperature change in the air this time of year and it draws me back.
    Thanks for the sweet reminder and acknowledgement of the past.
    xxoo


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