Chances are, dear readers, that you've moved house at least once in your life. Do you remember the night before flitting, and the day you arrived at your new home? I do - in all my houses but the second one. I no longer recall actually leaving the house, but I do very much remember arriving at our new home, the third one. Why do I ask?
For quite a while after moving into a new house, one's repertoire of memories is still very much anchored in the previous one. On your first day in a new home, if you wish to recall anything that happened more than a day ago, your recollection of any event is set in the time of your former home, for however long you happened to be there. Was it five years - ten? Then, as I say, most of your accessible memories are rooted in your old house, not your new one.
What am I on about you may be wondering? Well, I sort of feel that, until you can cast your mind back any significant amount of time and it's a memory of something that occurred in your current residence, then it's almost like you're still living in your old one and haven't yet fully 'acclimatised' to the change. I'm maybe overstating things to make my point, but it's perhaps not 'til the balance of memories of both houses is at least equal that you've fully settled in.
What I'm trying to suggest is that, when the majority of your recollections are based in a different location, in an unconscious sort of way you're still living there. It's a bit like your partner dying (or you getting divorced) and you marrying someone new soon after. The day after your wedding, you can't think of your spouse beyond that point without it being your previous one. It takes a while to build up a new stock of memories so that when you think back any length of time, your new spouse is part of the picture.
Okay, I'm stating the obvious in order to prepare you for the ground along which we're headed, which is this. Sometimes, when I wake in the morning, because it's the same room I slept in when I was 13, it's easy to imagine that it's my first day in that room. Meaning it's only the day before that I was sleeping in my old room, making the time I resided in my former home feel much more immediate and recent than it is, which I find comforting. It feels like my time in that former home, and therefore my childhood, is no further away than the day before.
That feeling is fleeting and only lasts 'til I see the old man in the mirror staring back at me, but for a brief instant, a cherished moment in time is resurrected and it feels like I'm not so far removed from it. Trust me, that's mainly a good feeling - until it passes and reality once again reminds me of the cold, hard facts of life.