Sunday, June 30, 2013
Do you ever have seemingly trivial and evidently meaningless memories dwell in your mind? I think of some train rides in England. It was 30 years ago and I sat across from a pregnant woman and her daughter, who was about 10 or 11. The mother chatted about the baby's arrival and general plans for changing the house about and I ached and ached knowing that I would never find out about that baby, who is now, if all have prospered, a young man or woman.
On another trip I sat across from an elderly couple. They looked posh but a bit dingy. He had on what looked like a really decent jacket--but it was clearly old. I wondered if they had declined into shabby gentility. He was wearing a tie, and it looked like an "old-school" tie but I do not now nor did I then know the codes.
I'm taken by faces on the platforms or by people queuing in lines. My mind's eye takes a mental photograph and I remember them years later. Decades later. I am pierced with the pang that nothing will return again.
Spark People is a somewhat transient place. I read a Spark Page and I make a Spark Friend and I invest myself emotionally in that person and that person will sometimes disappear and I will never know again what happened to his or her quest. I hope that all is well. I still think of some Spark Names and hold them close to my heart.
These affinities can be a bit strange. Why should I remember with vivid clarity a person who has not signed in for over a year when there are so many others? Why am I struck by some people who I only have had a ghost of a glance at?
Letting go of the need for permanence is a good way to let go of the need for excess food. Knowing that I will never know the end of the story is a good training for old age and inevitable loss.
June 30 is a day on which I wax philosophical. My father died on this day in 1976. And my beloved old Maine Coon cat died on this day in 2001. Images and dates are pinned to my mind. When my father died the old movie "Show Boat" was on the television in the waiting room of the hospital. And how I longed for him to be able to see it! He loved old musicals and I wanted him to be alive, singing along, or whistling along!