Layers of a cottage memory book

Why do I long for things I no longer have? It’s not simply a quick purchase solution. These things cannot be purchased. These things cannot even be accessed. These things are now only locked in the layers of memory.

Lazy summer days were spent at the beach making sandcastles or chasing chipmunks across the rocks. They were also spent splashing in the clear lake water and failing, so many times, to catch a minnow as it nibbled at my toes. Rainy days were full of fidgets. Books and games only lasted so long; once ravenously absorbed or completed, I ran out of options.

Sunny days filled the landscape with warmth and endless possibilities. It was decision time. Grab a bike, and soar down the dirt road? Hike through the forest, and discover that perfect sitting rock in the circle of sunshine? Perhaps, instead, it was a day to explore the dam, spy on the fish and skip across the churning stream. Then again, there were always ripe, belly pleasing blackberries to pick.

As these thoughts filter through my mind they show me a world I no longer inhabit. Although I might be tempted to say I have lost that world, I know I have not. Familiar faces of loved ones also weave in and out of view. For as long as my memory retains those years, those magical times, I am there again. I wander through space and time, sometimes sidestepping, sometimes circling, but always, I am there.

One thought on “Layers of a cottage memory book

  1. I'm there with you too!
    Our memories transport us with a whiff of a rose, or the sound of a chipmunk scurrying past our feet. Our children who have left us return suddenly when a flash of memory comes calling.


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