Yesterday was one of those days that make winter seem not so bad. Today it’s back to cold, grey and rainy. Saturday was sunny and even though only in the mid 40s it seemed downright balmy. One of those days that everyone wants to take advantage of, playing sports, walking or driving around. The river is a little high and very brown and muddy as it tends to be in the winter months. Still it was a great day to walk along the river and enjoy the view.
I was drawn back to the cottage on the river that my family owned as our summer residence when I was very young. I hadn’t seen the house in many years and as I drove back the long private gravel road that leads from the highway down to the river I was shocked at how run down many of the cabins seemed to be. And the summer house that holds so many memories for me is so much smaller than I remembered. And it is so much closer to the water than I remember. As a child a local farmer planted corn on the shelf of land between hill that the house was built into and the top of the river bank. My memory is of the tall corn and the narrow path to the beach. The path seemed to go on forever between the rows of corn and was a little frightening.
What I saw yesterday was actually a narrow flat between the river and the house that is now grass. The steep, high banks of honeysuckle on either end of the patio that faced the river are gone and the banks are not high at all. The big field behind the cottage that was a lighted bad mitten court or ball field or pony riding area now has another cottage built on it and a mobile home at one end.
It’s a strange thing when clear memories are challenged by the physical facts. I remember dozens of people visiting every weekend with lots of kids and cars and boats and games being played. The place just doesn’t look large enough to support everything I remember. Grape arbors and trees are gone along with the corn field and the honeysuckle. Nothing I see brings back any sense of nostalgia, it just challenges those memories from long ago.
An even greater sense of dismay greets me when I drive a few miles to see the summer place that belonged to one of my close friend’s family. The converted barn where we spent so many hours is abandoned and partially collapsed. This is just too sad. Memory lane isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, apparently. All and all an interesting afternoon even if not particularly comforting!
I was drawn back to the cottage on the river that my family owned as our summer residence when I was very young. I hadn’t seen the house in many years and as I drove back the long private gravel road that leads from the highway down to the river I was shocked at how run down many of the cabins seemed to be. And the summer house that holds so many memories for me is so much smaller than I remembered. And it is so much closer to the water than I remember. As a child a local farmer planted corn on the shelf of land between hill that the house was built into and the top of the river bank. My memory is of the tall corn and the narrow path to the beach. The path seemed to go on forever between the rows of corn and was a little frightening.
What I saw yesterday was actually a narrow flat between the river and the house that is now grass. The steep, high banks of honeysuckle on either end of the patio that faced the river are gone and the banks are not high at all. The big field behind the cottage that was a lighted bad mitten court or ball field or pony riding area now has another cottage built on it and a mobile home at one end.
It’s a strange thing when clear memories are challenged by the physical facts. I remember dozens of people visiting every weekend with lots of kids and cars and boats and games being played. The place just doesn’t look large enough to support everything I remember. Grape arbors and trees are gone along with the corn field and the honeysuckle. Nothing I see brings back any sense of nostalgia, it just challenges those memories from long ago.
An even greater sense of dismay greets me when I drive a few miles to see the summer place that belonged to one of my close friend’s family. The converted barn where we spent so many hours is abandoned and partially collapsed. This is just too sad. Memory lane isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, apparently. All and all an interesting afternoon even if not particularly comforting!
