Whiffs of the Past

It has been too long since I have written in here. I want to eventually give some sort of update on life as lots of new things have developed, but I will save it for another time.

It has gotten cold very early this year. I can think of few things I dislike more than cold weather. Mornings are especially hard and it has been taking me at least two hours to get up and going. I set my alarm clock insanely early and try to build momentum as soon as I get it I just keep going. If I stop I might just get stuck. I’m already pining for spring.

Nostalgia is another trap of this time of year. I suppose it is all of the sitting around inside. There’s so much time to think and sometimes memories just come flooding back with no rhyme or reason. Memories are such strange things. I’ve always been preoccupied with them. I am so afraid of forgetting. If I forget does that mean it didn’t happen? If I forget would that mean I didn’t happen?

I take these snapshots in my mind and sometimes they just hit me. Today on this dreary and wet Texas day I suddenly remembered  a scene I witnessed in Oporto, Portugal. I was walking along the Douro River by myself with the sun in my face. I stumbled on a family of traveling musicians who were playing a love song while their youngest son danced. He was dressed all in black and moved like a snake and everyone who passed stopped to watch. The whole family was beautiful, different shades of gold and brown. It was one of those moments you know must end, but you hold your breath in the hopes that it doesn’t. So, today I took the memory out like a picture in a scrapbook and examined it slowly and deliberately. The fresh misty breeze, the warm sun, the serpentine boy and me on that summer day…


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