A familiar scene repeats, spring after spring….
When is the last time you pulled up a memory and made it sweeter?
Saturday Morning
All is quiet at the horse farm as sun rises.
Frost appears on grass, roof, railing, and branch.
Forecast calls for a beautiful spring day
in her tiny corner of the world.
Not everything is quiet though.
A crack of the window reveals an uproar of competing chirps and tweets, similar to an orchestra in warm ups.
The birds were up before the sun, singing their joy into the transitioning season.
As sun’s rays gently warm the frost
changing it from white to glisten
she’s tickled by a memory
A young boy and his mother sit
bundled in the fort of a swing set
long since moved
to new yard
new children.
The pair watches
chipmunks blinking sleep from their eyes
scurrying among decomposing leaves
playing tag
stretching tightened tendons.
Joy
found in nature’s awakening.
Memory is bittersweet.
Sweet because it exists
in heart and mind.
Bitter because it’s relegated to memory status.
The boy no longer rises with the sun on spring Saturday mornings to watch chipmunks with his mother — no matter how much she yearns.
Such time has come
and gone
Mother sips coffee
writes the memory
as a tear of longing slides down her cheek.
“Buck up!” she tells herself. “Fourlegs is watching and ready to go. Lace your shoes. There are chipmunks to watch!”
Nicely written. And so true. I took the prompt to dust off memories of an exquisite solo winter backpacking trip. The stretch between TriCorner Knob and Icewater Springs shelters on the Appalachian Trail stood out then and now. The first to leave TriCorner Knob shelter at daybreak, heavy snowfall from overnight and hoarfrost on the evergreens looked idyllic. Extreme cold accompanied by a strong northwesterly wind stung my exposed cheeks and nose. Laying down the first footprints that morning, feeling well prepared for the conditions and having enjoyed some freshly brewed coffee with breakfast, I traveled on in awe of the views.
While some Kodachrome 64 slides exist from that 7 day/6 night trek, the mental imagery - freshly dusted off - remains vivid. How wonderful to recall something from just over 39 years ago with joy and not wistful longing. Thanks for the veritable feather duster to clean off the dust.
And there were chipmunks.