Ever watched a speedboat cut through the sea, or a 'plane soar across the skies above? What do they have in common? Both leave a wake of sorts behind them, the disturbed water in the case of a boat, and a vapour or exhaust trail in the case of a 'plane.
It strikes me that memory is a bit like that, especially when you move house. One's trail of memories belongs to the previous home and area you lived in, so all your established points of reference still exist in the past. It's not until you've lived for a time in that new habitat and the 'wake' has moved on that your recollections and perceptions pertain to your new surroundings and become 'synchronised'.
In a recent post, I was speculating as to why the 'flavour' of the old house and neighbourhood we had moved from in 1972, carried over to our new place of residence. Part of it was down to the fact that even though we'd relocated, much of my daily life still took place in my former locale, but it was more than that. I simply hadn't yet clocked up enough of a store of fresh experiences and associations to draw upon in place of the older ones. I therefore yet viewed the present through the fixed filter of past perceptions.
When a 'plane has passed out of sight, its trail yet lingers for a while before evaporating. Which is not to say that new memories and perceptions replace older ones, or that the older ones disappear (we shouldn't push the analogy too far); only that newer memories and impressions then move to the front of the queue of our recollections, becoming the lens through which we view our present environs.
I have high hopes of one day saying something profound. This wasn't it.
No comments:
Post a Comment