Time Travel

Going through boxes of old photographs the other night. “Simplify your life.” Hot mantra of the masses these days. When the kids were kids, the grand parents and even great grandparents were alive and it seemed – although we knew our lives were progressing – that those days – that vitality – would be within us forever.

We’ve all done it. Old photos of family - holidays, vacations, birthdays, A daunting task sometimes - piles of acetate covered paper – inches thick. We look at each one, absorbing the scene, tossing many aside quickly but often coming across the ones that stop us. We study them – and for a time – our hearts and minds flow backward to that moment – those people, that time of our lives.

Oh, those times. The birth of a child. The love that wells in our hearts recalling that moment. A party in the back yard with Grandma and Grandpa. They are sitting in those old lawn chairs with the lime green and white plastic strapping. They loved me – and still do although they’re gone from here. I loved them – and still do.

The Corvette sitting on the grass in the front yard – freshly washed and waxed. Funny. I probably would have said at that time that “I loved that car” but I would have been wrong. Love is not possible for an inanimate object but I didn’t know that then. Love springs from the meeting of hearts between people – or dogs, the occasional cat.

Christmases. The tree overly decorated with “tinsel” – does anyone besides me remember “tinsel”? Grandma would come over and – strand by strand for the first few hundred – put on the tinsel. After a while, she would make it two strands at a time, then six, then “Lets get this done!” and the tree would glisten in the lamplight for the next two weeks.

Here we are at the family vacation in Duluth. We’re all standing on the rocks with Lake Superior in the background. Dad’s taking the picture so he’s not in it. Look at those clothes! Mom was so young then. A beautiful woman. My sisters were just twerps – maybe 8 and 6 years old. Let’s see, that would have made me 10 – almost 11. Beth hadn’t been born yet. Two more years and she’d be here.

Each photo, each vignette of our lives brings a sense of grounding – and a sense of closeness to those we love.

As the pile diminished, many to be thrown away, many to be saved and savored again the next time – when? – another five years? - perhaps – I realized that I was exhausted. Time travel is tiring. And love is the fuel. ©