Monday, July 14, 2008
More Than A Memory.
Early this morning I was on my third round of coffee, feeling good, because I was already into more of Saint Matthew's verses, and as soon as I finished with him, I would write more about a lifetime I'm trying to make a book of.
That's what I was doin' when daughter, Bev, at "Scratchin' The Surface" emailed me for help with directions to houses we'd lived in long ago in Texas. A dear blogger most of you probably know, Big Mama, was making a trip to our hometown and hers' down there, and offered to look up old home places for us.
Emails zipped from Pennslyvania toward Texas and back to Colorado, and out to the Grand Valley in Grand Junction, and on and on, until we'd given Big Mama all the directions we could think of. Then suddenly here come more emails, and a picture of a house that will always be more than a memory, stares back at me from my computer.
To help you understand the significance of what it meant to see this house on Emile Street again, the computer was the instrument that made it possible. But when we lived there, I wrote on an old Underwood typewriter that still used an ink ribbon for the keys to strike to make words, and today we so easily push our computer keys.
That's how long ago it's been since we lived there. Seeing it again brings lots of tears. Immediately I am sentimental. The old house seems to have weathered life well and its trees that were already big, are bigger. For crying out loud, I am personifying this house.
I don't think I have to tell you, for you to understand, how the feelings flowed. One cannot make as many memories as we did there, and it not do that. Seeing the old place again, just to know it still stands, filled my heart so, for a while I had to get away from thinking of it. But I returned, and sat still, and remembered.
I can almost see it now, the picture of the Emile house would be exactly right for the front cover of the book daughter, Bev, at "Scratchin' the Surface" plans to write some day. I'm also thinking if someone hasn't already done this, that family therapy might be enhanced if therapists used a "memory" approach. Reading Barb, at "A Chelsea Morning" and Bev 's take on how our life there was, how sometimes our impressions on it differed, made me think of this.
I am so full of writing ideas from today. First, just grateful that Big Mama seized the moment to bring about something so grand. I wouldn't be surprised if both my daughters aren't still going over the wonder of the memories they relived today.
That's what I was doin' when daughter, Bev, at "Scratchin' The Surface" emailed me for help with directions to houses we'd lived in long ago in Texas. A dear blogger most of you probably know, Big Mama, was making a trip to our hometown and hers' down there, and offered to look up old home places for us.
Emails zipped from Pennslyvania toward Texas and back to Colorado, and out to the Grand Valley in Grand Junction, and on and on, until we'd given Big Mama all the directions we could think of. Then suddenly here come more emails, and a picture of a house that will always be more than a memory, stares back at me from my computer.
To help you understand the significance of what it meant to see this house on Emile Street again, the computer was the instrument that made it possible. But when we lived there, I wrote on an old Underwood typewriter that still used an ink ribbon for the keys to strike to make words, and today we so easily push our computer keys.
That's how long ago it's been since we lived there. Seeing it again brings lots of tears. Immediately I am sentimental. The old house seems to have weathered life well and its trees that were already big, are bigger. For crying out loud, I am personifying this house.
I don't think I have to tell you, for you to understand, how the feelings flowed. One cannot make as many memories as we did there, and it not do that. Seeing the old place again, just to know it still stands, filled my heart so, for a while I had to get away from thinking of it. But I returned, and sat still, and remembered.
I can almost see it now, the picture of the Emile house would be exactly right for the front cover of the book daughter, Bev, at "Scratchin' the Surface" plans to write some day. I'm also thinking if someone hasn't already done this, that family therapy might be enhanced if therapists used a "memory" approach. Reading Barb, at "A Chelsea Morning" and Bev 's take on how our life there was, how sometimes our impressions on it differed, made me think of this.
I am so full of writing ideas from today. First, just grateful that Big Mama seized the moment to bring about something so grand. I wouldn't be surprised if both my daughters aren't still going over the wonder of the memories they relived today.
