Glimpse: a very brief, passing look, sight, or view. A vague idea; inkling. Archaic: a gleam, as of light.
One week ago today I had that first vital communication with my cousin Debbie. I felt so tentative at first. But before the week had barely begun, I didn’t know what I’d do without her in my life. Isn’t that something? A kind of miracle really.
You are born alone and you die alone. But in between you form relationships. Some wither and die. Others get lost in the passage of time. Still others get jostled aside while you’re busy living life and raising children. And then suddenly your children grow wings and fly away, and you’re not part of their everyday lives anymore.
Without the rush and bustle of children you have time to stop and contemplate. To realize there’s a piece of yourself missing. But you can’t always put your finger on exactly what it is.
I guess I didn’t know what was missing until that fateful phone call last Sunday. But sometime during that conversation, that heretofore intangible puzzle piece came out of nowhere and snapped into place.
This connections means there is someone in the world who remembers me as a child. Who possibly has memories where I have only glimpses. Who maybe has photographs of me, when I have but a few.
There is so much we have to tell one another. We are going to meet in person in the next few months. From very early adulthood, to crows feet and sagging body parts, we will just have to imagine what we missed in between. And continue forward.
I don’t have clear memories of my early years on this earth. I have what I call “glimpses.” Brief flashes of memories that are here and gone, like a candle in the wind.
I close my eyes when these moments come knock on the door of my memory. I always think I can hold them still for a time with my eyes closed, shutting the rest of the world out so I can concentrate.
One of my most pleasant memories are of my cousin coming to visit. We didn’t live in the same town, so we could only see one another on certain weekends. I would be beside myself with anticipation on Saturday mornings, waiting for their car to arrive.
As I’ve mentioned, we would often place one of my great-grandmother’s quilts over a table. Playing house with our dolls underneath that quilt tent was one of those memories that I have held in a special place all these years. Sometimes thunder would rumble overhead and the ensuing storm would sound ominous, but we were sealed in a safe world where nothing could harm us.
Words are magical to me. But so are photos. It is the capturing of this little slice of time that is all important. The world fades away as I focus on the petals of a flower or the intricacies of a spider web.
Here on our blogs, we learn about one another through the glimpses we allow of each other. To me it is like driving down a residential street at night. Inevitably there will be a house that will have their lights on and the curtains open to reveal the family inside. Maybe they’re sitting around the table sharing dinner. I always feel so warm inside when I am driving by in the dark and catch sight of these family gatherings.
When I read your blogs I feel like I am in the car driving past, and you have lit up your lives to reveal yourselves to me.
Yesterday I painted an old shelf that I’m placing on my coffee bar. I’m pondering whether I want to decoupage the back of it. On Monday I will show you what I come up with.
Until then, I hope your “glimpses” are memories that sustain and nourish you this weekend.
