Summer has arrived in its fullest brightness. These sweet sunny steamy southern days remind me of when my dad was assigned to Liberia while my mother and I fanned ourselves in St. Pete before air conditioning in our house was a staple of any month from March to November. I remember going to the movies not so much for the movie itself but for the icicle decorations outside advertising to the world that inside we could be chilled to the bone. Those were the precious afternoons of "double features." I remember coming in from school to see my mother happily ironing (!)while listening to the latest on the radio which seemed to be tuned solely to news of Mickey Mantle. Letters from my dad ran to five or six typed pages. He didn't fade under the heat the way I did. The mail boat went out on Fridays so each letter was diary like. He never skimped on detail and found humor in everything. His postcards, on the other hand, said all we needed to know in few words and a good picture. B.E. said something nice when she came over. She said, "No matter where you move, your place always smells the same." I was surprised. I asked, "What does it smell like?" She said, "Wood and memories."
...may you find old postcards and significant scents to bless your day...
from Dian in Roanoke:
ReplyDeleteWood and memories...both so solid, down to Earth and durable! Loved your beeeeutiful Blob. I see now why you adore Old Man Winter so much.
thank you for this proustian moment. the scent, b.e. noted, is as good as his madeleine was. will
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