A Hazy Memory from Childhood

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Recalling a favorite childhood place is not an easy endeavor for a person of my temperament. Through a hazy memory instances and occurrences come fleeting through my mind like clouds floating across a colored sky. I can recall happy memories, and sad ones. Both are there, only their shapes differ; clouds too offer up different shapes. My problem lies in the actual choosing of a place that I can call favorite. Many different places come to mind, but each one has to be ruled out, for always some glitch appears and floats across a foggy memory that has not yet been burned away by the hot summer sun. My impulse is to enter upon memories that cause some pain in my being. If I had the choice, I would wipe these memories clear away, so as to never have occasion to recall them again. But, through force of will and some effort, I have decided upon a place that can perhaps qualify as a favorite. Like the North Star, it shines a bit brighter than the stars that surround it; but alas, it is still a star. And so, onto my favorite childhood place. Getting there was always an adventure in itself. Car or boat were the two options of conveyance. The road was terrible. Getting our old Volvo Station Wagon over and around the pits, ruts, and fallen trees involved tactics of fable: feats that no ordinary mortal would dare to attempt. At least, that is how I perceived the various trials from the back seat of the car. I was only aware that Dad would frequently stop the car and exit, to examine, saw, or do whatever was necessary for us to go further on our journey. I sat silently and waited for the journey to come to a conclusion. The destination is what I longed for. Conveyance by boat was more exhilarating for a boy like myself. Adventure o... ... middle of paper ... .... Finally, my parents arrived, riding the sound of their running footsteps on the hollow wooden dock. Dad immediately relieved my weary arms of their burden and pulled my brother out of the cold blue lake. I looked up into my Mom's face to see tears of mixed panic and joy as she embraced my younger brother, heedless of the world that surrounded the two of them. She focused only on her son, who looked back at her silently with deep brown chestnut eyes. Amazing are the implications of a moment. Our lives could have changed that afternoon; the sun would have never set the same. A place holds in it days and nights, seasons of change, shapes, textures, and foggy memories, floating across a mind like clouds in the coloured sky. It can also hold the threat of change and tragedy. A threat we all feel at times when we are forced to see things that are difficult to face.

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