One of the interesting bits about moving is that random associations of people with places at the old house will now disappear. There is a spot in mowing the front lawn where I automatically think of Paul Remus from my church. There is a place where I snowblow at the top of the driveway at which my young friends the Siffermans suddenly occur to me. Sometimes I can piece together how the association came to be, sometimes not.
Thinking of Tim King every time I cut sweet onions will probably remain, even though I will be cutting on a different surface now.
1 comment:
"I thought all those things when I was in the house of Wisdom. But now I think better things. Be sure it is not for nothing that the Landlord has knit our hearts so closely to time and place—to one friend rather than another and one shire more than all the land."
Post a Comment