I equate this feeling to firsts and new beginnings; when kissing your lover makes time stand still, dissolving the world around you.
Or to that of nostalgia; when so much time has passed that all that is left is the beauty of what once was.
Either way, sometimes all that matters is the way we choose to remember things, don't you agree? -tM
...we were young and beautiful and still making our way, the world still had magic and we had more time to create.
I once read somewhere on a plaque in a garden: “Ce qui sera, c’est ce qui fut”- “what will be, is what was," and this day was perfect. (Paraphrased from something I read long ago.)
The Mind Replays what the Heart cannot Delete.
only made it to the table in the summer when I was a child. It was eaten barefoot, and on our balcony; its juice habitually made its way into the cracks watering and staining the already parched concrete.
It was a family affair. -tM
Irving Penn; Still Life with Watermelon, 1947
This empty storefront was once enroute to school. I would visit it mainly on my way home. It was full of candy, old freezers from the 60's, an old man, and his wife.
It was a neighbourhood store that mostly the kids would visit. I remember the owners were Polish, they didn't speak much English. She was spritely and he moved slowly, wore suspenders, brown pants, and a button down short sleeve shirt daily. He had a nose that rose to every occasion. I remember being fascinated by its size and crater shaped holes. He never really spoke, neither did we. He would just reach out his hand and we would place the change right in the center of his heavy palm.
Once she died, I remember even as a child feeling his loneliness and anger. The others would make fun of him. I don't remember if I ever joined in, if I did I have obviously erased it from memory. I don't recall if he ever had children, I hope that he did, that he too had someone who cared for him into his later years. Many years later I happened to walk by and notice that he was no longer sitting on his stool by the westerly window, all that remained were a few posters still taped to the walls and the window decals.
And took this photo.
In that instant my childhood came rushing back to me in the colour and taste of candy, pennies, nickels, and dimes, in the mouthful of gum that I new I shouldn't be eating, in uncertainty, and in hope.
The photo was taken over 15 years ago now. The store front is long gone, and now the impressions of it are a reminder of my mortality.
It is curious how change can affect a person. We often don't know the true value of a moment until it becomes a memory. -tM