Memories in Stillness
With the advent of July it feels like we are knee deep in the flowers of endless summer. One week stretches into another with an aimless ease rather like Duke when he leads me around our neighbourhood on our morning ramblings; walking and sniffing with no particular end in mind and stopping occasionally to roll in the grass in sheer unbridled enjoyment.
The sensation of endlessness is not unusual, given the length of summer vacations here. However this year, having slid into the holiday after months of lockdown and having no particular idea of when normal structure will return with any commitment, we seem to be sailing silently into a new reality where the parameters and landmarks which we once took for granted have faded away into space.
I spend time in bewilderment; both wondering curiously what we will all remember from this period and being assailed by moments so vivid that they take shape as memories in the second that they arise. The children and I enjoyed a beach day a couple of weeks ago with friends; a lovely family we have known for years since our Orange County days, long before our boys began their teenage metamorphosis. My friend and I sat on the beach for hours catching up and gazing out at our sons, silhouetted against the sun in the shining water. At a certain point I was overwhelmed by a fierce sense of pride and an aching loss. Boys for only moments longer, the world awaits these young men and the words of Horace, which my beloved Latin teacher wrote many moons ago in my school leaver’s book, are much on my mind.
nunc est bibendum, nunc pede libero
pulsanda tellus (Odes 1,37)
And I’ve been gazing at Ed Heckerman’s pictures again. In this time of long suspension they have become dear friends. When I think of my children, particularly my little one, the image which accompanies this piece speaks to me. It tells a tale of motion stopped, of the absence of a child from their customary seat of play and of normality suspended. There is of course the possibility of return, the frame does not exclude it but nor does the photograph suggest a point in time at which this will be possible. And so we live and breathe through the endless uncertainty. Perhaps the swing will rise and fall again to the delighted shrieks of a child and perhaps it will stay forever bereft. Lost in a silence wrapped only in stillness and memories of days gone by.
Image courtesy of Ed Heckerman
