Polaroids of a Life

We have moments in our life that we remember so vividly. I am at a loss to understand why certain moments stand out so clearly. Why I remember a certain moment on Signal Hill standing, looking out over the ocean. I have been there a hundred times yet I can remember this one time with my foot propped up on a stone wall leaning over and looking out and thinking of my father. 

Earlier that day I had been to visit Winnie Leonard, our neighbour in Freshwater when I was growing up and she said, "I can still see your father there with his foot propped on the fence, smoking in the morning looking at the beach." I caught myself later that day with my own foot propped up on a fence. These are basically the only two moments I recall about that trip, that day, nearly twenty years ago. But for reasons unknown these images remain like it was yesterday. Vivid and clear. I can hear the tone of her voice. I can feel myself discovering I stood like my father.

Sometimes synapses connect and take a polaroid and we are left with it and we look at it again and again. And I try to make sense of them, try to find the meaning in them but am often left just puzzled. I remember odd little bits of beauty, geraniums blooming on a door step, the shape of the trees in a certain moment on the highway, my son's blue Pontiac in the yard, the light of the front room of our house when we moved in. Little glimpses of the past that are reminders of a time and place. 

If I had kept a journal of those times the imagery would all come back in a flow. Perhaps if I had taken more pictures I would see more. But I did not, and I still don't. I live wherever I am at the time. I don't record all the minutiae of my life. I just live it. When I walk I look into the woods, I might see the pileated wood pecker, or my neighbour dropping off something. These ordinary things happen everyday. And once in a while my brain takes a snapshot and I remember the ordinary like I was meeting royalty. The moment holds and I hold onto it.

And maybe a neuroscientist could explain that this is not some sort of serendipity. And if they could I am not sure I would want to know. Maybe it is the emotional significance, or the recalling of them and the thinking about them that we did. I love the mystery of it. Why do some moments remain so clear while so many others recede to the back of our minds. I can see myself at five sitting on our front steps alone eating a tiny two inch chicken pot pie that my father brought home for me from work. I loved that little pie. I had on shorts and when I sat down on the low step my knees seemed top be level with my face. I was little, alone and happy eating something delicious. I am still content today when I am alone savouring something delicious. And I can feel that little child in me. I am her still. 

And as I go about my days sometimes I wonder is this a moment that I will remember or am I just passing through this moment. Will this moment be a polaroid for future Deanne or will it be a digital file hidden away, needing conversation or a story or a picture to help me remember. And I admit to myself in that moment that I have no idea. I just have to wait and see what remains of the moment, what remains of the day.