It’s funny what takes us back.
I bribed myself out of bed to an early meeting (8:30… it’s early in my world) with the promise of coffee out. As the barista was pulling my beloved cuppa, she smiled and said, “Oh, it smells like the beach.” She had caught wind of something–someone’s perfume, mine maybe—that took her back. She closed her eyes and smiled and then shook herself back to reality. “It’s the smell of suntan lotion. It reminds me of my childhood on the beach,” she said coming out of that unmistakable trance we know as the flashback.
She grew up on a beach far, far from here. For a moment, while pulling my espresso, she was far, far away from here again. Just for a moment…
Sometimes it’s the smallest of things that sends us reeling into the past, hurtling through space and time and beyond our present. Sometimes these triggers are out of our control, the smell of suntan lotion on a mild winter day in the middle of February. But sometimes, they’re intentional. I’ll admit that I’ve rigged my world with such triggers. Every night before I go to bed, before I sink into the palest of blue sheets to dreams in the palest of blue rooms, I spritz on the smallest amount of the perfume I wear. My memory,as well as my mood, is controlled mainly by my nose—so, it’s little wonder I play these tricks of memory on myself. It’s small, really, but the smell of this perfume takes me back to a space where I feel safe. Safe and happy and warm.
It’s not I don’t feel safe now. It’s that I’m unsure. Winter does this to me, sets me ill at ease in my own skin. Ill at ease, neurotically watching the forecast, obsessively checking the skyline. I’m waiting for sunlight. I’m waiting for something to tell me I’m warm again.
This weekend the sun came out. It was almost, but not quite, balmy. Warm enough to prompt scones and Paris tea on the porch wearing only sweaters. Three years ago, on this exact weekend, we made a decision that would ultimately change our lives. It was a sunny weekend too, only colder. We had no idea then what exactly life would be like here on the edge of the world. And as I sat drinking tea, not quite warm but certainly not cold, I flashed back to that moment three years ago. The air so crisp and clean and the view, the view was what convinced us. It sings to us, even now.
Try as I might, I can’t rig a trigger that will put me on a warm beach permanently. Only time can accomplish this. Until then, I’m waiting. I’m waiting for sunlight. I’m waiting to be warm. I’m waiting, with no regrets.
waiting
waiting
and more waiting
for sun
That’s my poem for today 🙂
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I love it. Set it to music, darling. We can make a YouTube video. 😀 ~W
I am listening to the pouring rain right now and remembering the warm sun of this past weekend. We had doors open while we worked on the kitchen. The sun was warm and wonderful. Spring will come back again.
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Spring is an unrepentant tease. ~W
I’m so over winter at this point.
I updated, lamely, just for you.
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Oh, I love even the lamest of updates, if they’re updates from you. 😀 ~W
Oh…February can not make up her mind here. I am dreaming of a lazy vacation in the warmth…with hiking and fun that is coming for me soon. Until then, I keep heading out of the house without a jacket just hoping that the sun will take a cue from me…I think I need to keep an extra jacket in the car.
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Just think, 6 more days, and you’re there. Enjoy that sun. 😀 ~W
There is a hint of Spring out there. Being in my new office space gives me a better idea of it than where I was located previously. The birds are beginning to show themselves and a few spiders are out working on their web masterpieces.
For me, with my new view, I’m teleported to a couple of different places. I think of Seattle first – and the busy waterway of the Puget Sound I used to look over in my corner office. But then, just a little, I’m reminded of a certain stretch of channel islands off in the distance and that makes me warm inside…
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Ah… a view. It does make a difference, doesn’t it. I’m glad you’re enjoying your new space. The boy certainly is digging his! ~W
I love the sun too–but it makes me realize how much work my yard and flowerbeds need. I don’t notice it when it’s gray and dreary! Like you ,smells (and sounds) are very evocative for me. The sound of trains far away at night is haunting. The smell of spring rain out the window.
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Uh, yeah. I try not to look at my yard. It’s my gift to the neighborhood. With my yard, they can all feel better about their yards. I’m giving like that. 😀 ~W
I read the newer post before I read this one, and thought it was funny how I was thrown back in time by the buttons, and now this post is about memories. I seem to be working backwords here. Though I never saw the movie, I think I might be in my own version of “Memento.” 😉
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Just don’t start leaving messages to yourself in permanent ink on your body… you’ll be fine. 😀 ~W
Oooh – that movie was kind of freaky…
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It was, wasn’t it?! ~W
I can SO relate Wende! I left a similar memoir on my own blog about this very long, cold winter… Spring is coming… ~Renee
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It cannot come a minute too soon, in my book. ~W