reverb13: day 6
reflections are a mirror
This post is part of Reverb 13:
Day 6: What precious things have you gathered in 2013?
Which memories from this year do you wish to keep with you always?
This is a post I wrote a few months back
for my contribution over at Vision & Verb.
A memory of some memories, a day I will always remember:
Sometimes your see yourself first, and other times, you catch a glimpse of your surroundings. And the truth is, both are mirage.
I sat on the shore of this lake recently, and found myself taken back, to my youth, to years gone past, to yesterdays and forgotten dreams. Mostly, I thought about the things that haven’t changed.
I was there with my father, now 75 to my 50, him fishing and me reading and dreaming, just the way we did when I was a child.
It felt like all those years had never passed. I suppose the only difference was that I cherished the moment, more than I ever could have then, knowing now the value, and the rarity, of such a day.
I had no agenda, and we had no plan. The sun was warm on my face, a mid-October gift.
It was the kind of day to write stories about, the kind of day that plays itself out in quiet minutes ticking off on a clock that no one notices. The kind of day I’ll remember, forever.
And nothing happened. No fish were caught, no deadlines met, nothing of note was accomplished. And yet, it was everything and enough.
This lake, nestled in these mountains, holds bits of my heart from each of the times I have come here. I’ve come here alone, with my husband and our children and their friends, with our parents.
This water holds a lifetime of memories and reflections. And they’re different every time I look. I see grey skies and blues skies, water rippled and murky, quiet mornings clear as glass.
My dad and I sat and listened as leaves fell from trees, laughing at how loud a sound it was.
A sound that will always take me back to this place, an echo of love and light and time’s steady passing.
Our laughter is still out there, somewhere, bouncing back and forth between blue mountains, skimming the surface of this lake to dance with loons.
Next time I come I will only have to stop, and listen.
It’s all right here in this place that calls me home, again and again and again.