The most tangible of all visible mysteries - fire.
Good morning, everyone, and a fine morning it is. The oppressive humidity has finally broken, the sky is clear, and the temperature will be cooler than usual for this time of year. It will feel good to be able to take a deep breath of fresh air. 69 days left of summer, and that will be over before we know it, and I've not done much. One trip to Coney Island, a few days at the park, and that's all I have done so far. Kind of sad, isn't it? But the following picture I took yesterday morn shows the quality of the weather we have been having. No sun, gray, depressing, and far too humid. Don't feel much like doing anything in that kind of weather.
Yesterday I was on the bus coming home from the Center and as we were nearing my stop, I spotted fire trucks with red lights flashing in the vicinity of my building. My heart dropped. Not only was I worried about my home and my dear Miss Minga, but the scene also brought me a flashback from many years ago when I was also coming home on the bus. Only that time I was coming home from school. "Oh look at all the fire trucks", a classmate called out. "There is a fire". There sure was, and it was MY house that was on fire.
Fortunately the fire had been caught in time, and the house was not badly damaged. My beloved dog, Susie, had been saved by the fireman, and was in the care of a neighbor. Sadly though, we lost our memories. All of our photo albums and the box that contained all the little holiday gifts I had made my parents in school throughout the years had been destroyed. Unlike today, where photos are stored on computers and never lost, 55 years ago they were hopelessly lost. I had nothing of myself from my childhood. It wasn't until a few years back that a cousin contacted me via Ancestry and sent me the only picture I have of me and my dad. My dad is the one with the mustache. I still lack a photo of my mom.
The fire yesterday turned out to be a few houses down, and that, too, was not a serious one. Thank goodness all ended well.
It amazes me how easily things can trigger an old memory for me today. I'm often surprised that I find my memory triggered by the most subtle things like the scent in the air or a photo in a magazine. Just the other day it was the wind that reminded me of a windy day long ago. I'd always heard that older people will have poor short term memories but very good long term memories. But, I wonder if that is all there is to it. I think slowing down also contributes to the memories of bygone years.
I know in my case from the age of 30 up I was so busy with work, school, and raising children that I had no time to cherish the past. I was too busy looking forward. But, aging brings with it retirement and a slower life style. There just seems to be more time to savor the good times of the past...and an opportunity to work through those bad memories that you had pushed far into the background.
And finally, another photo of my dearest friend, Miss Minga, my shadow. This was when I came home yesterday. You can just imagine how relieved I was, but I was still trembling from the tremendous fear I had felt.
Have a great day.